The Kingdom of AU
by Dobby's Socks
Summary: Many people have their different views on the Potter-verse, but there are some who just take it too far. This is a collection of cliches, AUs, mishaps, and other things which generally should not be published. *No offense inttended to any specific author.
1. Chapter 1: Fifty Plus One Equals?

**Just face it: we've all done it. We've all at a point taken the universe of Harry Potter and abused the creative flow made by J.K. Rowling. But there are times where things take a step over the line of reasonable. This fic, a series of drabbles/one-shots, is dedicated to the quirky, absurd, and the just plain stupid.**

**The Kingdom of AU**

**Chapter One:**

**Fifty Plus One Equals?**

In which Sirius finds out the consequences of being a player…

Harry was happy to see his godfather out and about now that his name had been cleared. Sirius now had the chance to live a happier and healthier lifestyle and forget the past fourteen years. However, things did not seem that way when Harry saw his godfather in the hall with his best friend Remus Lupin.

"I can't believe this is happening," groaned Sirius, his hair hanging in his face.

"It's really all your fault," sighed Lupin running a hand through his graying hair. "I always told you to be careful, but did you listen to me? No. It's a good thing you have that fortune."

"But honestly, fifty-one! What am I supposed to do with fif-"

"Oh, hello Harry," stated the former professor. Sirius snapped his head up to look at Harry but then quickly looked away. "Um… Sirius has something to tell you. Don't you, Sirius? It's _really_ important."

His godfather glared at Lupin but then walked over to his godson putting an arm on his shoulder to guide him down the hall. "So, Harry, now that I'm a free man I was thinking that maybe you'd want to come stay with me instead of your muggle relatives." Harry felt his heart soar. Finally, Sirius and he could have the life they always wanted with a tiny cottage in the countryside- "There's just one itsy-bitsy complication," said Sirius. Harry felt his dreams take footing on the floor again. "It isn't just going to be you and me. I want you to meet your god-siblings."

The door to an abandoned classroom swung open dramatically to reveal an entire room of children, teenagers to be precise, all around Harry's age. All eyes turned to the door and Harry could see they all had the trademark gray eyes of the Black family.

"How many of them are there?" asked Harry bewilderedly.

"Fifty-one," replied the man flatly. "These are my fifty-one children. Only one set is twins. And of course each one of them _has_ to be named after a constellation just like me. Starting here and going clockwise we have Orion, Sirius Jr., Adara, Agena, Atlas, Alya, Betelgeuse, Capella, Castor, Diphda, Electra, Fornacis, Hadar, Izar, Jabbah, Kuma, Matar, Meissa, Miram, Mufrid, Nashira, Peacock, Pollux, Rana, Rastaban, Rigel, Sabik, Saiph, Segin, Sham, Shaula, Spica, Syrma, Tabit, Talitha, Tarazed, Terebellum, Thuban, Tyl, Vega, Wasat, Wezen, Yildun, Zaniah, Zaurak, Zibal, Zosma, Zuben, Taygeta, Porima, and Chara."

"Have you met them before?" questioned Harry glancing at the fifty-one pairs of gray eyes staring unblinkingly at him. He somehow knew the answer before Sirius responded.

"Nope. I didn't even know that they existed until today."

"Who told you?" inquired Harry; somewhat wishing that he had stayed in bed today.

"Dumbledore," said Sirius. "He said the orphanages were getting crowded."

"Where is their mother?" asked Harry.

"Their mothers died in the war: all fifty of them," Sirius stated nonchalantly.

"Fifty! You mean they're not all from the same person?!" asked Harry outraged.

"Of course not! They're like almost all the same age, and I already told only one set are twins," scoffed Sirius.

"But fifty!"

"Yes. Apparently after graduating from Hogwarts, joining the Order, being the best man at your parents' wedding, becoming your godfather, and being sent to Azkaban I had the time to dilly-dally with fifty different women," replied Sirius.

"Wait, how did fifty women die all at the same time?" questioned Harry in disbelief.

"Well…" started Sirius as if he were about to engage in a long story, "Mary, Pamela, Anna, Susan, and Nicole were murdered by Death Eaters; Phoebe, Jessica, Tory, Erica, and Christine died during the torture process; Johanna was killed by this guy who looked like a really old version of Snape; Kate, Katie, Katherine, Cathy, and Katy were attacked by Inferi; Tami had her soul sucked out by a Dementor, though I swear she didn't have a soul in the first place; Lauren, Beverly, Patty, Maria, and Barbara killed each other in a cat-fight over me, of course; Lacey fell into a dragon's den in Romania and hasn't been seen since though Charlie found something that looked like a ring that I bought her; Isabelle, Cindy, Tracy, Amy, and Danielle committed suicide; Emily was eaten by a giant Pop-tart though it's thought that she survived and is assisting this pastry in the Pop-tart serial killings out in Siberia; Amanda, Julie, Dana, Petrina, and Gabby were attacked by demon monkeys; Rebecca, Robin, Roberta, Clarice, and Francis were abducted by aliens; Sophia, Brigitte, Katrina, and Marina crashed a plane into an active volcano; Meredith went crazy because of the twins, Orion and Sirius Jr., and drowned herself in a vat of oatmeal; Ally, Olivia, Jamie, Faith, and Bethany were killed by sweater vests; and Martha mistook a glass of bleach for a glass of milk and rotted all of her brain cells, it was very tragic."

"So you know how all of your girlfriends died, but you didn't know you had fifty-one children?" inquired Harry incredulously.

"I actually didn't find out until Dumbledore told me this morning. It was kind of like winning the lottery, only instead of winning fifty grand I won fifty children."

"You forgot me again!" cried one of the children.

"Plus one," added Sirius. "Oh yeah, all of your god-siblings are being enrolled in Hogwarts as we speak."

"What?!!" gasped Harry, his jaw dropping. "B-but-"

"I'm sure you're all going to be the best of friends, _every_ single one of you, because that's supposed to be expected of you. And if any of you are sorted into Slytherin I'll disown and you'll be an orphan… again. But this time I'll know about you, but I won't care. So there. You will all be in Gryffindor: _every single one of you_, because that is to be expected of you also. Right Harry… and fifty-one children?"

Harry gaped trying to imagine Gryffindor with fifty-one new house members. The dorms would probably have to hold twenty people each. What if the weight from the extra people made Gryffindor Tower slide off the school? Hogwarts was an extremely old building…

"Right," chorused the fifty-one children.

"What?" stated Harry.

"Because that is definitely to be expected," said Sirius in finality.

**I think a valuable lesson away from this chapter: never win the lottery. *Cough* besides that, I'm pretty sure we can determine the real Sirius probably did not have any children. Also, Sirius in the Flashback for OotP does not notice the girl staring at him on page 642. Please read and review! Any suggestions for future chapters are welcome.**


	2. Chapter 2: Mission Crossover Pt 1

**Oh sorry, we forgot on the last chapter.**

**Disclaimer: We do not, shall not, and never have owned Harry Potter. Also any other series mentioned are not ours for future reference.**

**Chapter Two: Mission Crossover Part One**

"Avada Kedavra!" Snape roared. As the beam of green light shot forward, Dumbledore sighed in relief. His plan had gone perfectly. Suddenly, the air seemed to flash white around him and he stumbled and fell off the tower…

OoO

"Fly, you fools!" Gandalf the Grey managed to warn the rest of the Fellowship as he lost his grip on the rock and fell, his leg caught in the Balrog's whip. The tunnel seemed to be stretching on forever as he continued to fall, when the earthy tunnel shone with a bright light. He felt the Balrog's grip on him vanish, as the area around him seemed to turn to that of the night air…

OoO

When Albus Dumbledore could see again, he noticed quickly he was falling down a tunnel along with some strange creature as a boy who looked remarkably like Harry was being restrained as he repeatedly yelled, "Gandalf!" Doing some quick thinking, the Hogwarts Headmaster conjured a rope, using a strangely carved staff that was in his hand, which tied around the cliff above. He began to climb, as the extremely short Harry's screams of terror turned to delight. Several others began pulling the rope and helping his progress…

OoO

Gandalf was falling as several people in strange black robes peered over the edge of a tower that was attached to some sort of castle. Not having his staff, he braced himself for the fall. It wasn't too terrible, he reasoned, as the old wizard hit the ground, his countless layered gray robes cushioning the fall. There seemed to be some kind of struggle going on inside the large structure, but that was hardly worth noting as he stood from the ground, brushing off grass. This was clearly not the outside of the mines of Moria, nor anywhere in Middle Earth.

"He's alive!" Yelled a woman who looked almost as if she were part Orc. A man who Gandalf thought was possibly a black haired Elrond peered down at him, shock clearly displayed on his face.

"You barmy fool!" Jeered a rather wolfish looking man. "Where are you gonna run now?"

"Excuse me," he interrupted, meaning no quarrel. What was important was the Fellowship. "But could one of you kindly point me in the direction of Mordor? I appear to be lost."

OoO

Once up on the ledge, eight other people, five of them not looking at all human and very short, the Harry look-a-like included, led him from the cavernous area, while pestering him with questions. But he couldn't be bothered with that. Harry seemed to have lost his memory from the trauma of seeing him almost killed.

"Harry, where are your glasses? How did you get away from the Death Eaters?" He asked worriedly.

"Gandalf, my name is not Harry. It's Frodo, Frodo Baggins. Remember? We must hurry on to Mordor as you said, to destroy the ring."

The greatest sorcerer in the entire world seemed to be having a little trouble grasping the subject. As they emerged outside of the strange passageway, he said, "I have no idea what you're talking about, we must go back to Hogwarts at once and drive the Death Eaters from there."

The small pointy-eared Harry Potter looked to a tall man with a beard and brown hair seemingly for help. The man appeared to look almost like a young, brown haired Sirius Black who had not spent twelve years in Azkaban. But that could not be, Sirius was dead.

Two short looking boys who had the same mischievous air about them as Fred and George Weasley, but were not identical, brought him some water to drink, as a younger, kinder looking Lucius Malfoy seemed to be discussing which way to go with an extremely short Hagrid and a man who had the same kind of smile as Gilderoy Lockhart.

"Perhaps you should get some rest, but not for long. We cannot stay here." Said the man who looked like Sirius. "Sam, pack up." A somewhat chubby, curly haired Ron Weasley immediately obeyed, putting some pots and pans back in his sack. What was going on, Ron did not cook!

No, this could not be true. He could not comprehend it.

OoO

The people above him were laughing at him. Openly laughing! and calling him 'Dumbledore', clearly some kind of insult in this land. Suddenly, Frodo appeared over the ledge streaking toward him on a broomstick! Had the young hobbit gone mad? He was going to plunge straight into the ground.

But no, he landed with perfect ease, and began shaking his sleeve. "Professor! We have to go, now!" What on Middle Earth was he calling him that for? And Frodo didn't wear glasses!

Suddenly several people rushed in through a gate at the edge of the grounds around the castle. Galadriel was in the front, running forward and shouting in some strange accent, "Bill! Where ees Bill!" What did she want to see Bilbo Baggins for?

A few people brandishing short twigs that issued jets of light at each other emerged from the castle doors. A short haired, pants-wearing Arwen was among them. This made no sense; Elrond would never let his daughter do something so dangerous!

An enormous Gimli burst from a wooden shack on the grounds followed by a baby Warg. He didn't understand, the now large dwarf seemed to be communicating with the foul creature.

The cloaked figures on the tower were now sending their own jets of light at them, which he dodged. They kept pointing at Frodo. Clearly they wanted the ring.

He turned to the boy now dodging the flashes of light and grabbed him. "Frodo! Where is the ring?"

He seemed confused and stuttered, "S-sir, my name's Harry. And you destroyed the ring, r-remember?"

No, this could not be true. He could not comprehend it.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

As both powerful wizards forfeited their dignity and power to let out identical wails of frustration and terror at the strange new worlds they faced, the authors laughed at this pointless, yet incredibly entertaining plot of appearance issues.

**Hope you enjoyed! As I said, really fun to write. Haha, poor Dumbledore and Gandalf, never knew what hit them.**

**Lesson learned, although many characters share alike characteristics, **_**Harry Potter**_** and **_**Lord of the Rings**_** do not belong together because they cannot comprehend it (and Ron can't cook).**

**To make it clear, this will not be the last crossover one-shot in the series so look forward to more in the little 'Mission Crossover' strand which will appear periodically throughout the fic. Please Read and Review! Comments are greatly appreciated!**


	3. Chapter 3: Starcross'd Haters

**Okay, so it has been a long time since we last updated, but now we have the time! Yay five day holidays!**

**Disclaimer: We are also not William Shakespeare, which we hope that you'd all know by now considering this is the twenty-first century and we're pretty certain that there were not scripts or copyright laws back then.**

**Chapter Three:**

**Star-cross'd Haters**

_Two households, not at all alike in dignity,  
In ancient Hogwarts, where we lay our scene,  
From mutual grudge break to traditional mutiny,  
Where the name pureblood makes muggle hands unclean.  
From forth the dramatic loins of these two foes  
A pair of star-cross'd teenagers take their life;  
Whose misadventur'd piteous overthrows  
Doth with their hate create new strife.  
The fearful passage of their nonexistent love,  
And the continuance of their peoples' rage,  
Which but the end of the world could naught remove,  
Is now the two minutes traffic of our stage;  
The which, if you with patient ears attend,  
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend._

"Granger, thou Mudblood fiend! I loathe and despise thee!!" hollered Draco Malfoy across the Entrance Hall.

"I would kill thee if it were not illegal, and thine life is not worth a lifetime in Azkaban!" Hermione Granger shouted back. To make it simple, the two hated each other with a burning passion. He was a Slytherin and she was a Gryffindor. She liked to study and he preferred slacking off. He played Quidditch and she loathed the sport. She was brave and, to put it frankly, he was a complete coward. He liked coffee and she liked tea. They were like water and oil, fire and water, yin and yang, total opposites.

The girl turned her back upon the blonde boy and continued along her way to the library. Draco Malfoy began meandering his way down to the dungeons with two goons named Crabbe and Goyle following him.

"Draco," grumbled Goyle whilst cracking his knuckles, "you seem a bit off today. You never let Granger have the last word. Not to mention, you're talking a bit strangely today."

"I know not what thou meanest!" snapped Malfoy, though his cheeks were tinged a bright shade of pink.

"Goyle is right," stated Crabbe through a mouthful of English muffin. "If you were to turn into a ferret now to suit the color of your personality, you'd be a pink ferret."

"Shut thine trap!" snarled Draco. "Wait until mine father hears about this!" He stormed off leaving the two confused goons in his dust. Weaving through the corridors he came to a closet. Malfoy checked to see that there was no one coming and then ducked inside locking the door behind him.

Within a few minutes he lit the candles lining the walls of the abandoned broom closet and he sat down to gaze at it: his shrine of Hermione Granger. He'd only fallen in love with her about a month ago after the Yule Ball, and the goddess that was Hermione Granger replaced all of his former thoughts of how beautiful Madam Hooch was. He had gone to great lengths to make sure that this remained a secret, for if anyone found out then he'd never live the shame down in Slytherin House. Every day he'd wake early to wait inside a suit of armor that was not closed in the back to see her come down early to breakfast with the golden sun gleaming in her gorgeous locks of brown hair. Then he'd go to breakfast and sit just at the perfect angle so that he could study her reflection in the glass of the pumpkin juice pitcher. When Crabbe and Goyle came to join him Draco would immediately go off on the subject of how much he hated Hermione Granger (for no one would suspect his secret attraction if they were constantly told how much he hated her). Then they would have their first daily shouting match followed by the dreary hours of class in which he would think silently to himself about her face. If he had a class with Gryffindor House he'd antagonize her, just so he could hear her bellow his name angrily back to him. It gave him Goosebumps whenever her eyes would narrow at him, and he felt himself melt inside with every insult hurled his way. He always gave her the last word. Draco made sure to go to the library during his breaks since she was always there with her glimmering eyes studying a book. After this came dinner, more shouting, until finally he'd hide behind a tapestry to watch her go back inside Gryffindor Tower. Cruel destiny that this one door should separate them!

During the past months he began to collect various objects she left behind. Yesterday he had found a treasure beyond all things: she had left a broken quill on her table after Potions. Draco made sure that nobody was looking before he snatched it up and barreled through the halls to add it to his shrine. Almost anything that she touched made its way to his closet. This, however, was not enough.

Draco Malfoy wanted to hear her speak his name, to hear her say that she loved him back. He could not see how anyone, even Victor Krum, could compete with him. Malfoy _knew_ that he was the single best-looking guy in the school (Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode had made this clear on several occasions). Destiny loved him and nothing could ever stand in his way. It was Fate that the two of them should be together, and so Draco Malfoy resolved to speak with Hermione Granger.

That night Draco Malfoy stole out of the castle and scaled the walls of Gryffindor Tower. Finally he reached the balcony outside her dorm window and began to pelt it with small pebbles that conveniently appeared there. After about seven of these he accidentally shattered a pane of the glass causing Hermione to come to the window.

"There is she! The apple of mine eye! Madam Hooch is the lovely East, but Hermione is the sun!!" he whispered.

Hermione Granger then opened the window. "Wherefore art thou pebble when thine purpose art that of a missle? Oh! I knew not that we had a balcony."

"Hermione, oh Hermione!" called Draco even though she was only about two feet away from him. "How I love thee! Do speak again."

"Thou art an imbecile! How came thee hither?" she hissed.

"Love makes one float like a balloon and brought me hence! These walls of stone and devilish red tapestry cannot hold thee!"

"The shadows of midnight hides mine face otherwise thine eyes wouldst behold a flush of rage," muttered the brown-haired girl.

"Sayest thou lovest me and I willt be satisfied!" Draco cried.

Hermione looked Draco Malfoy straight in the face and slowly stated, "I love thee not." With that, she slammed the window leaving him broken-hearted out on the balcony. It was then that Malfoy realized something extremely important: there had never been any balconies on the Hogwarts' towers. Crying out in anguish, he fell as the imaginary balcony disappeared under him. Needless to say, Malfoy never bothered Hermione Granger again.

_The End (West Side Story Style)_

**AN: Now we know that there are a lot of people who support this pairing and write stories about them, but considering that this fic holds anything that is not Cannon Dramione applies. We are not trying to insult anyone, but in order to be fair to all other non-Cannon shippers Dramione had to appear. We hope you enjoyed the overdrawn nature, though! Huzzah Shakespeare!**


	4. Chapter 4: Rise of the Necromancer

**Happy Halloween, everyone! We wanted to get a holiday-themed chapter in for your guys. Hope you guys eat so much candy that you get sick! :D**

**Chapter Four: **

**Rise of the Necromancer**

_"Why don't you run along and play with your chemistry set?" sneered Sirius Black. _

And so he did. Severus Snape crept drearily down to his dungeon all by his lonesome as Aurors searched the Hogwarts Grounds above for Sirius Black who was probably halfway to Vegas by now. He had failed in bringing down his worst living enemy, and Snape would have to live with this failure forever etched into his memory. The images of Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and his least favorite James Potter laughing at him would never vanish. James would always win at Quidditch, in social situations, and Lily. _His Lily_ would forever be in the arms of James Potter eternally in death. Even death would not part them.

Reaching into the cupboard, Snape took out his chemistry set as he always did whenever he was in a bad mood. This seemed happening more often through the years as he had more and more Weasleys in class. He began throwing random ingredients together in his rage and sorrow. If only Lily had not died, he thought. If only she were alive again, then everything would be better. He'd tell her that he was sorry and that he had changed. He did not notice as a drop of blood from his hand fell into the cauldron and the smoke above the cauldron drifted out the window…

OoO

Minerva McGonagall could not help but notice the increased number of reports in the newspaper about gruesome, gory deaths and empty graves. Even the Muggle newspapers were reporting people being found in their houses missing limbs, organs, and even noses. There was something eerie about this, but if she mentioned it to any other wizard they would say it was the fault of the infamous murderer Sirius Black. Any reasonable person, however, would know that even an infamous murderer could not leave a bite mark in a person's thigh.

One afternoon, she finally decided to confront the Headmaster about this pending issue. "Sir," she started, as they were almost finished with their daily game of wizard's chess, "have you noticed anything odd in those attacks that have been reported in the Daily Prophet lately?"

"Not really Professor McGonagall. Is something bothering you?" asked the aged Headmaster while popping a lemon drop in his mouth. "Lemon drop?"

"No thank you," she replied. "I'm just concerned that there is something horribly wrong with all of this. It concerns me that no one has been caught yet."

"Don't worry about it, professor," stated Professor Dumbledore. "The students are perfectly safe here." Due to certain circumstances of the past, Minerva McGonagall did not believe him whatsoever.

OoO

Severus Snape was about ready to kick himself for not paying attention to the potion he was making. When looking in his book Snape noticed that he was making a revival draught, but due to some deadly nightshade, tongue of deer, petal of decayed flower, water from some old fish bowl, and blood dropping from his hands the cauldron was bubbling dangerously. It wasn't even his own blood: he now remembered that it had come from Potter's robes when Snape had interrogated him about the location of Black. The ingredients were reacting nastily to each other and a strong stench of blood reeked through his office.

Snape was just about ready to clean up the potion when something burst through his wall. He couldn't believe his eyes. It was Lily-kins! His Lily! Alive!

"Lily! Oh, Lily!" he cried to weak to move. "I'm so sorry! Will you forgive me?"

Lily turned to him. "BRAINS!" she groaned. Severus gasped upon seeing her empty eyes full of only death and hate. There was another smashing noise that echoed through the room and there stood James Potter.

"BRAINS!" he groaned as well, pointing to the panic-stricken potion's master.

Sirius Black then busted another hole in the wall and sprinted up to Snape. "When I said go play with your chemistry set, I didn't mean like this! Run for your lives!" he shrieked. The two grown men bolted out of the door hollering like little girls.

OoO

Professor McGonagall was returning to her office after long hour of hall duty filled by another Weasley twin fiasco when Severus Snape and Sirius Black fell through the ceiling. "Blimey, they're fast! Seriously, we had to climb through the ceiling tiles to get away from them," Sirius Black muttered, rubbing his head where he had hit it.

"Sirius Black!" she exclaimed, clutching her heart.

"Oh hey, Minnie. What's up?" he asked pleasantly.

"Y-you're here! Again!" McGonagall proclaimed. "And don't call me Minnie!"

"Sorry, it's a habit," he explained. "Really, what's cookin-"

"Zombies!" shouted Snape grabbing the front of her robes. "Zombies! Look out!"

"Black, what did you do to him?" she questioned venomously.

"I didn't do anything! It's all his fault."

"They're coming! Save me! He wants to eat me!" cried Snape hugging her around the waste.

"Severus! Let go of me this instant! You can be certain that the Headmaster will hear of this!"

"No, he's right," stated Sirius Black as if he'd just remembered some sort of problem. "They want to eat our-"

"BRAINS!!!!!!!!" hollered two voices. Minerva snapped her head over to see two very familiar faces looking at the three of them. It was terrifying. Lily and James Potter stood there, their faces marred by death, but they seemed to be acting as a living person would. No, it could not be. There was only one explanation for this.

"Zombies!" she screamed. People poked their heads out of doorways and passageways upon this statement, and absolute mayhem was the result. Students and staff members took flight as the zombies attacked. McGonagall knew there was only one thing to do: darting to the Astronomy Tower she bolted and barricaded the door with countless spells and then moved one of the curtains to reveal it. She pulled the lever setting off the Zombie-Alert-Alarm (she knew this thing would come in handy).

_To be continued…_

**AN: Yeah guys, people coming back from the dead are a bad idea. We don't know how many times it is mentioned in the series that magic cannot revive the dead. If someone would try, it would only be logical that the person would be a zombie. Leave necromancy alone. No one wants to hear about it. And you all know that this has been tried with several characters. Stay tuned for part two. And three, and four, and five… Don't worry: there's going to be a shit-load of sequels. XD**


	5. Chapter 5: Satisfying the Tikki Master

**We're on a roll here, huh? These are seriously way too much fun to write.**

**Side Note: Chanting is italicized. **

Chapter Five Satisfying the Tikki Master

"Slytherin!" Cried the Sorting Hat. Immediately, the Great Hall erupted on all sides. The Gryffindors started yelling and booing- Ron Weasley in particular looked as though he were going to vomit with the realization that he had accepted food, charity! from a Slytherin; the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws were all chattering amongst themselves at the latest development; and the Slytherins were either outraged or bragging to the Gryffindors. Up at the staff table the teachers were holding hushed conversation, and both Hagrid and Severus Snape had fainted. Dumbledore let no expression cross his face; he simply started clapping. He was the only one, as everyone else seemed to have lost their heads.

'Are you sure about this?' He thought desperately. He hadn't wanted to make a scene, not when he already appeared to be famous here.

'No, actually, I was just jokin-- Of course I'm sure! Look, I can't be bothered to read every little bit of your brain, otherwise this would take forever! And just because you're Harry Potter doesn't mean you get special treatment! Honestly, they always think they know best. It's always: 'I know I'm a Gryffindor because I'm brave, so you better put me there or—' But the irritable Sorting Hat was cut off short because the Professor, McGonagall was her name he thought, chose that time to finally remove the hat from his head. Harry noticed she seemed a little pale, but otherwise she gestured to his new house table though he didn't really need the help as most of them were now making room for him on one of the benches. He timidly walked over, extremely aware of the glares being sent his way by the Gryffindors. He sat and watched as the Headmaster made his announcements, and just stared numbly when the food appeared from thin air on the plates.

"Well, now that the old fool's done talking, welcome to Slytherin House," said a grinning seventh year. The rest of his new housemates smiled his way.

"Um, thank you very much," he replied.

"I guess you weren't as bad as I first thought," Draco Malfoy decided. Oddly he was smiling too.

"We're very pleased that you have chosen to cooperate with us," an older girl spoke pleasantly. Well, the word choice was weird, but who was he to judge?

"You better eat up, you've got a big night ahead of you," said the first boy. Maybe they were going to introduce him to the other house members. Harry began to eat, feeling more comfortable. Of course, he felt a little bad about Ron; he had enjoyed being in the other boy's company. Perhaps he could talk to him tomorrow.

OoO

Later that night, Harry, along with the rest of the first years was given a tour of the Slytherin common room. It was elegant and stylish, and very, very green. Though it was in the dungeons, the beds were comfy and warm, and Harry soon fell asleep…

OoO

When he awoke, Harry first thought he was on a ship, for he was rocking, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Then the low, steady beat of some kind of drum made its way to his ears. He realized then that his wrists and ankles hurt a little, and couldn't move, and that he only felt open air beneath him. He opened his eyes, fully awake now, and was greeted with a dark earthy floor, moving beneath him. Panicked, he raised his head and looked around, and was met with an increasingly terrifying site. He was tied to a wooden spit, which was being carried by the Slytherins through a dark and spooky jungle. They didn't appear to have noticed he was awake, and he wasn't sure he wanted them too; one of them, Crabbe, was carrying a large club. His companion Goyle was carrying a sharp, rustic spear. And then he noticed something: the Slytherins were wearing nothing but leaves. He almost was sick, and was certainly emotionally scarred. He checked, and fortunately, discovered he was still wearing his pajamas. But this all made no sense. What was going on??

They then came out into a clearing, and Harry almost gasped at what he saw. A large bonfire was burning before them; beyond that, he saw something resembling a stone altar; and further away was what looked like a miniature Mayan temple. On top, dressed in a ceremonial robe, complete with leaf-headdress sitting backwards (although his head somehow faced towards them) was…. someone Harry had never met before. He was kind of creepy though, with no nose and red eyes.

The Slytherins not carrying the spit filed past, gathering in two circles around the fire, the outer circle being the ones with the drums, and the inner circle everyone else. After this was done, the inner circle began to dance a tribal dance while they chanted in low voices, the drummers keeping the beat.

_He came to us! He came to us!_

_A blessing from the Tikki Master!_

_Salazar Slytherin, our Lord's commander!_

_And now we shall complete! _

_What was begun!_

_When he was one!_

_Lord Voldemort, our leader on high!_

_Accept this sacrificial offering!_

The man sitting above them was Voldemort? And they worshipped Salazar Slytherin as a Tikki Master? And- Wait a minute! Sacrificial offering???

Voldemort nodded, and the Slytherins carrying him on the spit began to walk forward, around the fire with the drummers and dancing chanters, closer and closer to the stone altar. They laid him face up upon it and Goyle handed the spear to the seventh year Slytherin, the one who had been so nice to him before. Harry was so terrified he couldn't move. They were really going to-

Voldemort stood from his seat and looked to the dancing chanters and drummers. They were still and quiet. Then one drummer began to beat his drum slowly, the others joining in. Then the chanters, quietly:

_He came to us! He came to us!_

The Slytherin slowly raised the spear, and as he did the chanting grew louder and louder, and both the drumming and chanting grew faster and faster, until it was ringing through his head, leaving nothing else to think about.

But they were right, weren't they? He had been sorted into their house, had literally walked into their clutches, giving himself over for them to do with him as they pleased. Because really, why would Voldemort want him alive even if he were a Slytherin?

_He came to us! He came to us!_

The Slytherin brought the spear down. Voldemort smiled.

_Sacrifice!_

**And that is why Harry belongs in Gryffindor. Do we really need to say anything else?** **Didn't think so.**


	6. Chapter 6: The Boy Who Sporked

**Heh-heh…..Sorry? The computer broke, and has just been re-set up. So, of course, the first thing we're going to do is update. So, hopefully this chapter is a good one.**

**Dobby's Socks**

**Chapter Six: **

**The Boy-Who-Sporked**

"Here comes the airplane, Neville!" cooed Mrs. Frank A. Longbottom, sole female resident of a secret location that was so secret that, naturally, no one…undesired would be able to find it. No sir, not a chance in the world, the Longbottoms would never be found by Volde—

Well, also naturally, when one speaks of the Devil, he doth appear. And so it was that somehow You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Dark Lord, Voldemort, Tommy Riddle himself burst through the front door of the Longbottoms' not-so-secret house, and promptly blasted Mr. Frank Longbottom right into next week's Sunday comics in the _Daily Prophet_ with a fatal _Avada Kedavra_. He then made a swift advancement up to the second level of the house where the Mrs. and Baby Neville Longbottom were located. Quickly, the young mother stood with wand at the ready.

However, she also was quickly cast aside with a Killing Curse delivered by the Snake Face, as their wasn't a conveniently converted Death Eater who had been obsessed with her all his life and would do anything to save her among Voldemort's troops. Alice Longbottom just wasn't as popular as some of her classmates.

Voldemort therefore stood facing the one-year old who had been cruelly abandoned in his high chair. The fifty-some-year old man smiled, approaching his prey. He bent forward so as to gleefully watch the light fade from his supposed enemy's eyes when he killed him. "So easy…"

It was then that the young warrior attacked. With stunning speed and accuracy, Neville snatched a spork from his mother's half eaten cup of frozen yogurt and plunged it into the bald man's eyes, said man howling with pain at the sudden development.

But that wasn't the end. The boy quickly tied the murderer's robes to the high chair, trapping him while he repeatedly stabbed using the plastic utensil, which was surprisingly effective. (Lovely tyke, isn't he?) The brutally killed wizard finally collapsed, knocking the high chair over and breaking it. The spork was let go by the young boy in the fall, and he promptly fell asleep curled up on the comfy, blood-red carpet.

That was how the Aurors found the really-not-secret house of the Longbottoms the next morning. Confused, horrified, but also delighted, the Wizard Community praised the amazing feat of magic that must have been accomplished by the boy, who now had a scar of three dashes running diagonally down the center of his forehead, obviously the sign of great magic. The spork had gone unnoticed, and had even been trampled on by the new Auror trainee, a young man by the name of Dawlish.

**So….yeah. Not only is the series called **_**Harry Potter and the (Insert Individual Title Here)**_**, having Neville be the Boy-Who-Lived would not change the events too much, and probably not in favor of the good guys anyway, considering that Voldie wouldn't give the option of running away to Alice Longbottom, so Neville wouldn't have blood protection. That is why in order to live, he would have to viciously defend himself with the spork. **


	7. Chapter 7: Rejected!

**Somehow, this type of story occurs in the fandom so many times, it's not funny. Half the time, it's not even explained why or how. Honestly, Harry would be one dead little baby if it actually happened. And really, it's a little hard to believe that everything would turn out all romantic sunshine and happiness anyway. So here we go.**

**Dobby's Socks**

**Chapter Seven: **

**Rejected!**

Severus Snape, Former Death Eater, Honorary Member of the Order of the Phoenix, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and All-Around Unpleasant Guy was standing outside one of the shops at Hogsmeade, like he did every Hogsmeade weekend as he had volunteered for the countless time for patrol duty. Not many would normally peg such a man for patrol duty; for it was a known fact that Severus Snape _hated_ children to their _very core_. However, there he stood, and all because of his favorite hobby: Lily Stalk—Erm –Watching. Yes, Lily _Watching_.

His Lifetime Crush and (Former) Best Friend, Lily Evans (Actually, the Widowed Lily Evans-Potter. However, that had been a brief, dark period that he had nearly blissfully forgotten.) lived in a small cottage near the village, but spent most of her days at the shops, talking and socializing with other wizards, and also working at the Three Broomsticks for Madam Rosemerta. This was why he came down to Hogsmeade every chance he got, because it meant he could see her.

In _truth_, after the two had parted ways over their different beliefs of how the Wizarding World should be run, Lily had fallen head-over-heels for James Potter, Severus' rival. They had gotten married a year after school and also joined the Order of the Phoenix. Shortly after, they'd had a baby boy named- Hm…it seemed to have slipped his mind…was it Harvey? Harold? Henry? -Not Important, who had then been deemed by prophecy to be the only one to be able to stop the Dark Lord in his bid for power.

Severus, who had then been a newly inducted Death Eater (There had been a particularly wonderful ceremony at the Malfoy Manor, with balloons and cake and Firewhiskey and Pin-The-Sword-To-The-Mudblood), had overheard, and ran, practically tripping over his Death Eater robes, to tell his master. Of course, he hadn't known it was Lily's baby, and that he had placed her in grave danger. When he learned this, he begged his master to spare her, which he surprisingly did agree to.

However, it wasn't enough for Severus Snape, and so he turned somewhat traitor and begged Albus Dumbledore for help instead. The kind older man gladly obliged, and hid the Lily and the two Potters away. Which lasted for a little while, but they were then betrayed by a close friend, Peter Pettigrew, who had given Voldemort the information he so desperately craved. Potter had died, trying to foolishly battle You-Know-Who himself, and then Voldemort had chosen to blast Lily away _not_ with a Killing Curse and had then blasted the young one-year old away. With a Killing Curse this time. Lily had apparently gone into a terrible rage and killed the Dark Lord on the spot. To the very day, the Potters were seen as a tragic but necessary loss, and Lily was upheld as the beauteous star and angel that she was, a savior, and also conveniently single…

Things really had turned out for the best, at least Severus thought so. Lily was a hero and not to mention filthy rich from the inherited Potter fortune, but she didn't have the husband or child to deal with. It was a situation a Slytherin could only dream for. He'd told her as much, but she didn't seem to appreciate it.

But, with time, he would win her back. He had vowed to, making an Unbreakable Vow to himself. He wasn't sure how well that had worked out, but he felt it had to count for something.

And there she was, red hair shining brighter than the sun high above, tossed over her shoulder to cascade down her back in auburn pools with a roll of her head, emerald eyes glimmering in merriment, perfect white teeth glinting as her luscious lips fell open in a melodious laugh, having just been listening to a incredibly hilarious joke told by—

Seamus Finnegan? What was that Gryffindor Seventh Year degenerate doing entertaining _his_ Lily? And now, black eyes gazing in disbelief through layers of greasy black hair, he saw that he was escorting her by the arm and carrying bags obviously belonging to her! What was happening?

"Oh Seamus, you always know how to make a woman laugh," Lily sweetly said, smiling in adoration at the young man.

"Well, Ms. Evans, I try my best," he replied, flashing what he obviously thought to be a charming smile. Wait, why was Lily blushing? "I make it a special priority to give a beautiful woman something to laugh about."

To his horror, Severus saw that Lily flushed even deeper red, then said "Oh, you flatterer. And Seamus, I've told you; it's Lily." Lily? She was letting Finnegan refer to her by her first name? He hadn't been allowed that for years!

"Well, Lily…you know, in a month now, I'll be graduating. I'll be a full-fledged wizard. A real man." Oh. Merlin. No. This was _not_ happening. He wouldn't let it.

Striding forward, Severus said, "Ms. Evans, what a pleasant surprise." He managed to keep his cool outer exterior, but inside he was seconds away from strangling Finnegan.

"Snape, I suppose it is a surprise. Good day," she replied coldly, making to continue walking. He desperately grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"No, Ms. Evans—Lily –I can't go on like this. You must know that—I've always loved you."

"Professor Snape?" Finnegan squeaked in a voice not quite befitting that of a real man. But then, the embarrassment caused by having to confess this in front of a student disappeared.

Because Lily opened her mouth and spoke three words: "Leave me alone." Her eyes glared harshly at him and she wrenched her arm from his grip.

"Lily!" He pleaded.

"Enough!" She yelled. "You destroyed my family, my life, everything I loved, you monster! And now, just when I'm trying to rebuild and move on, you come to ruin it again! I hate you more than Voldemort himself! Stay away from me, or you'll regret it!" With those words, she turned and ran, sobbing uncontrollably. Finnegan ran after his love, most likely to comfort her. Severus would never find out. For at that moment he dropped to the ground, irrevocably dead.

His last thought had been "So Unbreakable Vows _can_ be made to yourself…"

**Is there really need for explanation? Lily obviously didn't love Snape in return, twenty years and a conveniently dead husband can never change that. And yes, we know Lily/Seamus is really creepy.**


	8. Chapter 8: The Light Age

**This particular blunder in fanfics is mostly due to laziness. In some fandoms, this is no problem and is even realistic. But for the Harry Potter Universe, this can never happen.**

**Dobby's Socks**

**Chapter Eight:**

**The Light Age**

Ron Weasley, a particularly normal and innocent young man who did not deserve to be caught unawares in the early peaceful morning, was making his way down to breakfast. His best friend Harry Potter (Yes, the Boy-Who-Lived, he knows that) was still fast asleep, and Ron, being a kind and caring individual, had chosen not wake him, and was now heading, alone and unsuspecting, to the Great Hall simply for something to eat.

Sadly, he was stopped by an extremely odd sight out the window and far below, on the Hogwarts lawn. Rubeus Hagrid, resident half-giant, lover of all things monstrous, and friend to Ron, was walking towards the currently leafless Forbidden Forest, as it was autumn. This in itself wasn't odd, but it was what Hagrid carried with him and what he was wearing that intrigued the redhead. Hagrid had strapped a pair of goggles around his head, and was wearing what looked like earmuffs—no, they were more sturdy than that –over his ears, making his hair look even messier than usual. He carried a strange device, with a box-like thing on one end and a tube jutting out the other. He couldn't see very well from so high up.

Then Hagrid, who had reached the Forest's edge, pulled a string on the contraption, and the quiet of the morning was ripped to shreds. The thing Hagrid carried was practically roaring horrendously so that Ron had to place his hands over his ears, and its powerful breath frightened the Forest so much, it began to suck all the leaves back to within its borders.

"Bloody Hell!" He exclaimed to himself. "Hagrid's found a new dangerous pet! I have to go warn everyon—"

Just at that minute, though, it seemed help had arrived, for around the corner came Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Sinistra, and Madams Hooch and Pomfrey. But, wait, what were they _wearing_? All four were dressed in tight spandex shorts, running shoes, and sports tanktops, hair held back from their faces by sweatbands, and strange white wires were coming from their ears and leading to their pockets. He then realized that all five were speed-walking and breathing heavily.

As they passed, Madam Hooch gave a rallying cry of "Come on, ladies, we're on the fourth floor! Keep it moving to the Astronomy Tower! We're halfway there!"

Professor Sprout excitedly squealed, "Ooh, I have the perfect Bon Jovi song for this on my 'Good Songs' playlist!" She then pulled out a little rectangular box connected to the white wires, then pressed some buttons and traced her finger in a circle a few times. She finally pressed a button again, and to his horror, Ron could only watch stunned as all five women began belting at the top of their lungs (and very off key):

"_Wo-ah! We're halfway the-re! Wo-ah! Livin' On a Pra-yer! Take my hand, and we'll make it I swe-ar! Wo-ah, Livin' On a Pra-yer! Livin' On a Pra-a-yer!_"

All five women disappeared out of sight and hearing, tightly holding each others hands as they picked up the pace. Once he had managed to do more than stare in the direction they exited, Ron quickly ran all the way down to the Great Hall. He had to find someone to inform of all this and fast.

But when he reached the Great Hall, he was even more shocked. Nearly everyone was sitting in their seats with one strange object or another. And he was incredibly surprised to find that Harry was sitting amongst everyone, already started on his breakfast.

"Harry, how'd you get down here so fast? You were still asleep when I lef—"

"Well, I woke up as per usual with my radio/alarm clock—"

"Harry, you don't haven an alar—"

"Then got ready and used my GPS—"

"GPWhat?"

"To locate the quickest route to the Great Hall."

Ron couldn't believe it. "_My own best mate is speaking utter rubbish to me."_ What was he going to do?

Then hope came in the form of the person sitting across from Harry. It was hard to make out a face, as the student was concealed by a strange object, made of two rectangles on a hinge, one open towards him with the word "Dell" written on it. But he could see the very top of a ridiculously bushy, brown-haired head poking out over the thing. Ron Weasley could recognize that hair anywhere. It was his other best friend: Hermione Granger. If she couldn't explain it, no one could.

Now if only he could get her attention. She was busy staring at a screen while she hit a lot of buttons. He noticed each had a letter printed upon it and whenever she hit for example the 'h' key a letter h would appear on the screen. Even though he was fascinated by his discovery he decided to keep going with his investigation. "'Mione," Ron said, but she didn't pay him any attention. "'Mione! Hey, 'Mione!"

"Ronald, please, I'm trying to finish this report for Professor Snape's class due in two weeks." Typical.

"But 'Mione, the school's gone insane! I just passed McGonagall and some of the other professors, and they were—"

"Oh, they're just trying to keep their weight under control. You don't have to be rude about it, you know."

"Sorry, but what is all this anyway?"

"Well you see Ron, Professor Dumbledore was able to use a great feat of magic and make all of the Muggle Technology compatible with the magical energy in Hogwarts. (Even though that breaks countless rules of science and nature, and is also impossible according _Hogwarts A History_, but apparently, Dumbledore is just that brilliant.)

"Wait, how does that wor—"

"Hey Ron! Over here!" It was the ever excitable Colin Creevey, holding what looked like a camera, but more compact and shiny. It still had a lens, though, so it couldn't be good.'

Defeated, Ron said "Alright Colin, do you want a picture?"

"Oh no, I'm already filming you!" The younger boy stated with a wide grin.

"Filming?" Once again, Ron found himself entirely mystified.

"Oh right…Pureblood. Well, its like moving pictures, that I record, so you can watch, for example, this conversation again and again and again and again….I already got a short film on how Harry eats his breakfast!"

Said Boy-Who-Lived was now using another strange rectangle to type something on a screen. It was similar to what Hermione was doing, but Harry was on some type of page that had the heading "Facebook". In a box that was next to a picture of both himself and Ron at the last Quidditch match that said "Harry Potter" he was typing.

"Harry, what are you doing now?"

"Just updating my Facebook status with my iPod Touch to say that Malfoy's a technological n00b." He stated it as if it were the most normal thing in the world. "Can you believe he doesn't even know what the internet is?"

Ron didn't know what it was either. Did that mean he was a "n00b" too? Oh Bloody Hell, he was on the same social level as Malfoy. What had the world come to?

"Going to Great Hall, text!" A Hufflepuff girl said aloud as she typed on a box similar to Harry's.

"Stephen? What's up man, where are you? The guys were all planning to take a spin in the new wheels." A Ravenclaw at the next table spoke into a device that he held to the side of his face. It looked like a smaller Fellytone, but without the wires.

"Oh sounds sweet, I will be there," said Stephen Reynolds, a Gryffindor sitting to his right.

"Here, let me plug in my straightener and dryer, you won't have to worry about you hair then."

"Pikachu uses quick attack. Yes! It's super effective!"

At that merciful moment, Hogwarts blew the hugest fuse in electrical history. The whole school, having already gotten rid of their torches, was completely black for days. The Electric Company pulled out of the deal they had made with Dumbledore, as did the various Phone Service Companies and everyone else. So the rest of the school year was spent re-buying torches, taking down the new and never-used Smartboards, overheads, projectors, and other new equipment. Laptops, cell phones, iPods, leaf blowers, hair-care equipment, and all else were sent home or thrown away. Hogwarts then returned, to the incredible relief of all the Purebloods, to (in terms of Muggle Technology) the Dark Ages. Just what everyone was comfortable with.

**Magic and Technology don't mix.**


	9. Chapter 9: Contract Negotiations!

**Ok, nobody really writes about stuff like this, but we just felt like it. So, for future reference, if you write a story like this, chances are, it better be crack. And please review! We're sad without them.**

**Chapter Nine:**

**Contract Negotiations?**

It was a typical day in Azkaban Prison for one Sirius Black. This entitled sitting there, wasting away in his little bubble of misery as his dementor guards paced back and forth sucking the happiness and joy out of his life. He felt it was a _lovely_ existence. Truly smashing.

On this day he woke up as usual and marked the wall with his long, yellow fingernails. He had 4017 days down: only the rest of his life to go. It was when he went to lie down on his bed (bench) when he began to notice that something was not quite right. For some reason he did not feel as miserable as usual. Sure, he was still pretty ticked off and depressed at his lack of trial and the fact that he was imprisoned for all eternity for horrendous crimes he did not commit, but there was something missing. Perhaps that sucking in of air and cheerfulness noise he was so familiar with. That rattle of repetitive reaping of souls, raping of raunchy thoughts, and remembrance of reality.

It was as he sat there, in the cold, dank darkness of his cell, that he realized the extent of his solitude, which was greater than usual. No creepy, cloaked, carnivorous (at least soul-wise) Dementors were lurking outside his cell, and to tell the truth, there usually were a lot. They were replaced instead by some knee-knocking wizards, Auror trainees to be exact. From the looks of it, they were drawing straws to see who was the lucky sod that would give the 'dangerous murderer' his breakfast. He decided to make it easy on them and came right up to the cell door.

"Hey," he stated, making everyone jump, "I'm kind of hungry in here so will you just give me my pitiful excuse of a breakfast already?"

"Uh- right, sir," stuttered one of the guards who unlocked the small slot in the middle of the door. He gave the tray to another guard who shoved it through the door with trembling hands.

"Gee, no need to almost drop it. Does it look like I could pull you through that slot and cause you a most painful death?" he asked. All of the guards shook their heads. "I didn't think so. What's going on around here anyways?"

"Well, you see, the Dementors… well… they went on strike," replied a lanky dark-haired guard. All of them rubbed their necks or looked out the non-existent windows from obvious embarrassment.

"Wait seriously, they went on strike?" Sirius questioned more than a bit baffled.

"Seriously," replied the one with the shaky hands. "You see, they feel that after all the Wizarding realm has given them that they still don't get enough. The other day they had a movie night and some _real smart_ bloke gave them some Muggle film called 'Newsies' and they somehow got the idea to strike from there."

"Honestly," said the 'oh-so-brave-because-I-unlocked-panel-guy' putting on an important air, "they're asking for one soul a year for each guard, a hundred galleons in pay, and two weeks of vacation! _Two weeks_! It's absurd! Where are they going to go? The beach? The blazing, hot beach full of sunshine?"

Sirius also questioned this logic, but decided to ignore it. "So… you guys are here until this is settled, huh?"

"Yeah," replied shaky-handed fellow.

"Wanna play Exploding Snap?" he inquired.

OoO

Sirius grew more and more bemused each day as the wizard guards were still there (he was also winning more than a few card games, which was building him up _quite_ a stash; perhaps he could bribe one of them into going and getting him some chicken during one of their breaks). The complicated part was that there was really no way to stop the Dementors from striking. They could not be killed as far as he knew, and if someone got too close their soul could be taken via Dementor's Kiss. The obvious- and only- solution was to wait it out, but it was not working. The Wizarding Realm was going to have to hire more guards if the strike didn't end soon, and Fudge was really too stingy to do that. This was why the wizards were entering into negotiation with the Dementors at noon today.

OoO

"So…let me get this straight," Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror Department said, sitting at one end of the table. "You request one human soul each year, 100 galleons in salary, and two weeks vacation time per guard."

About fifty feet away from him, at the other end of the table, the Dementor representative, a rather wise, experienced guard member named Lawrence, who was learned on the skill of negotiations and politics, turned his cloaked head to look at the translator sitting midway between the two leaders, Bartimus Crouch Sr. After a brief conversation, the political failure of a wizard spoke to Scrimgeour.

"Their terms have changed I'm afraid; They simply _demand_ 250 galleons, plus a raise based on seniority, two human souls for expecting guards, and two weeks of vacation plus maternity leave."

"E-expecting guards? Maternity leave!" Spluttered Scrimgeour, momentarily losing his composure.

"Well they do breed. He's very adamant on this point because his granddaughter, Winifred, is expecting a pair of twins soon, and his niece Kathleen has just been married to Edgar, the Dementor in charge of burials of prisoners," he spoke this part with shifty eyes, "and his third-cousin once-removed on his mother's side, named Bernice—"

"That's quite enough to be getting on with, Crouch," Scrimgeour grumbled, in control of himself again. "Galloping Gargoyles, how many relatives can he have?" he muttered quietly.

In truth, Lawrence was related to nearly every Dementor that guarded Azkaban, through a series of carefully arranged marriages and, if need be, inter-marriages in his large family during the dreaded times of peace. He had modeled this system after many of the pureblooded prisoners he had guarded over the many years. In fact, Mrs. Black would most likely turn green with envy if she were to look at _his_ family tree.

"What makes them think they can receive such benefits anyway? Hasn't this greedy git ever heard of small steps, working up to things?" he finally asked Crouch.

"Well, he says that…unfortunately for the Ministry, we cannot destroy them, they can practically incapacitate our Auror divisions by entering the same room as them, and nothing is…stopping him from removing our own souls from our bodies by force…if necessary…" Crouch was looking very pointedly at him now, and the air began to feel colder, more menacing. Involuntarily, his body began shivering.

"Very…Very well. I'm glad the negotiations have been such a success. Please, allow me to write up your terms," he did so as he spoke, "and sign," he did quickly, then magically managed to pass the paper to Lawrence, although his magic faltered out a bit right before it reached the Dementor. Lawrence took the quill in his rotted hand, and signed as well, then sent it back. "This will now be an official part of Ministry Policy. I'm pleased to say we are making a step forward, er, in our, erm, Wizard-to-Creature relations."

Lawrence nodded and then floated out of the room. Both wizards were extremely relieved, but also very put out by the terms they had agreed to. However, Lawrence was thrilled: the happiest a Dementor could ever be in his world of misery.

OoO

Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was walking through the heavily guarded entrance to Azkaban Prison a mere three weeks later. His visit was simple; purely just to check that everything was running efficiently and that the new arrangements with the Dementors were working out.

There had been quite the uproar in the Wizengamot when the results of the negotiations had been announced. Albus Dumbledore, in particular, had been furious with him and demanded that the Dementors be relieved of their post at Azkaban and be destroyed, as the headmaster was a firm believer in _not_ having people's souls sucked out.

He had almost given in to the much more powerful wizard, too, but frankly he slept peacefully at night knowing that the Dementors were guarding Azkaban, and he knew he wasn't alone.

So now he was making a routine checkup, which he dreaded annually as it usually took him about a week to fully recover. He had finished talking to the head Dementor -some chap by the name of…had it been Larry? He hadn't really been paying attention, and honestly Dementors were all the same really, so what did it matter- through a translator. Now he was just walking through the corridors containing the cells, listening dimly to the wails, moans, and sobs of the prisoners contained within them. It wasn't like they warranted sympathy anyway, they were all criminals. Yes, he was just about to call it quits and make a quick exit when—

"Ah, Minister Fudge. What brings you to this humble abode?" Oh how he hated that voice. It belonged to the one prisoner on this entire horrid island that he somehow could never simply ignore: Sirius Black. The one prisoner on this entire horrid island that should be feeling the most pain and suffering, that should practically be a vegetable by now, but wasn't. In fact, even though he had been brought here almost twelve years ago, Sirius Black didn't seem to be affected by Azkaban at all, mentally at least. In appearance, he was no longer the handsome young man that had been roughly thrown into his cell; instead, he looked like some emaciated giant of a goblin with all of his features weathered down to show his pointy bones.

"Just the usual inspection, Black. Certainly you should have guessed such," he replied without even looking at Sirius Black.

"Oh, is it that time of year again?" asked the Prisoner of Azkaban. "It seems like last year was just yesterday. Perhaps I'm off on my day count."

"Well, I'm sure you have plenty of time to check," responded the Minister of Magic. He honestly had no idea why he was even talking to the man. Fudge turned to leave, but then Sirius Black spoke again.

"Could I have your newspaper, Minister?" he inquired, holding out his bony hand.

"What are you going to do with a newspaper?" questioned Fudge suspiciously. Newspapers could be dangerous. Sirius Black could give one of the human guards in Azkaban a paper cut and then that poor chap might bleed to death. He was _not_ letting someone die on Ministry property while he held the office of Minister of Magic.

"I just want it for the crossword puzzle. It's an old hobby of mine," replied Sirius Black simply, shrugging his shoulders.

The Minister of Magic could see no danger in this, so he reluctantly placed the paper in the Prisoner of Azkaban's outstretched hand. To his relief the man pulled his hand with the newspaper back through the bar and his eyes scanned the front page. Feeling quite relieved, Fudge continue his inspection.

He was pleasantly surprised to find things moving smoothly, however, he'd have to find a way to appease both Dumbledore and the Dementors in order to keep things this way. Unfortunately for Fudge, things would not go as planned, for Sirius Black back in his cell was shaking with rage. Over the next week it was said that he spoke in his sleep, and by the end of July Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban Prison…

OoO

Lawrence was furious. Sure, he had been happy with the contract negotiations, but now his species was put to shame. Never before had anyone escaped from Azkaban. How could a Dementor face the magical world now? So it was that day that he entered another conference with the Head Auror, Rufus Scrimgeour.

"Lawrence would like to say that he and the other Dementors are just as angry about this, Rufus," translated Barty Crouch.

"That still does not solve the problem!" spat the Head Auror. "What are they going to do now?"

He and the other Dementors really did not want to do this, but Lawrence knew this was the only way to regain the honor of the Dementors.

"Lawrence says that they are willing to withdraw the terms of the contract," said Crouch.

"Good!" exclaimed Scrimgeour. "This would never had happened if not for that stupid contract!"

"However-"

"Now what?"

"Lawrence asks that half of the Dementors from Azkaban be allowed to help in the search for Black. They also request that they be allowed to take his soul upon recovering him," translated Crouch.

"Fine! Just get him back and make sure this never happens again!" snapped Rufus Scrimgeour. The Head Auror snatched his cloak and stormed out of the room. Lawrence felt relieved. At least he and the others would get a meal.

**A/N: Now this is why Dementors don't have contracts. Just think of what would happen if they couldn't reach an agreement. The wizards would all be worse than dead. Plus, it's just completely ridiculous. XD**


	10. Chapter 10: The Three Dursleys?

**Ok, we're back after a little bit of writers block! So time for more laughs! Enjoy!**

**Chapter Ten:**

**The Three…Dursleys?**

Eight year-old Harry Potter, the neighborhood freak, rode home in Uncle Vernon's car with an increasing sense of dread. Dudley sat in the back with him, though he was already starting to take up two of the backseats by himself. His cousin was grinning maliciously from ear to ear; it didn't matter that Harry had escaped from him at school, now he was going to get it.

It was because of how he had escaped from Dudley that Harry was now in trouble. He had been running from his cousin and his friends and had jumped over the trash bins, only to find himself on the school roof. The Principal had nearly fainted, and then proceeded to call the Dursleys as the whole school gawked at him from the playground. Harry knew that he should have just let them catch him like always. At least then the lunch monitor may have taken his side.

The car stopped at number four Privet Drive as always, but today it seemed dark and haunted to poor little Harry Potter. It seemed to almost remind him of a nightmare he'd had once after the circus had been in town. Harry had rather liked the show, especially the magician, but the final act had been the clowns. Now clowns was in his list of top ten fears, only coming after all three Dursleys, Mrs. Morrison's bluish beehive wig, and that creepy nightmare with the green light. In the newest nightmare (the less scary one without green light) he had been standing outside the house on Privet Drive, but it almost seemed that it was not the house. The structure was somehow warped like an image in a funhouse mirror, causing the house to loom far over his head. Harry knew that he should run away, but he could not. Like the Frankenstein monster he had walked stiffly forward and grasped the knob tightly. Upon opening the door, he had found to his horror that the room was filled with clowns all staring at him wickedly, each holding something behind their backs.

The nightmare had always stopped there, but Harry was not too sure about today. Uncle Vernon barked at him to get out of the car, and he followed his cousin timidly into the house. Dudley half waddled and half skipped over to Aunt Petunia and began telling her about how naughty Harry had been in school. His uncle slammed and locked the door, turned his red face with throbbing vein towards Harry, and began to shower the small boy with spit.

"So, you thought it would be funny to climb around on school buildings?" started his uncle. "Think it's funny to try to damage some school property and scare the people there half to death?"

"I didn't climb up there!" Harry insisted. "I was just jumping over some trash cans-"

"OH HO! Jumping over trash cans now!" exclaimed Uncle Vernon, beady eyes glistening in triumph. "Trying to embarrass yourself and your cousin?"

"No, I was running away from… some people, I jumped, and suddenly I was there on the roof," Harry stated. "I don't know how I got up there! Honestly!"

"You can't just jump over a can and land on the roof," taunted Dudley. "He's a liar! I saw him climb up on the roof!"

"Perhaps you should take a leaf out of your cousin's book," sniffed Aunt Petunia, placing her hands on her little darling's shoulders. "We do not support liars in this house."

Before Harry could cut in, Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the arm and looked smiling towards his aunt. "I think some sort of punishment is in order for little vermin liars."

His aunt surprisingly returned the smile, in a less evil sappier manner. "Yes," she replied, "I do believe punishment is in order."

Great, Harry thought. Now he would be stuck in his cupboard all weekend without food or anything. He should have guessed it would come to this.

"Go down to the basement boy!" ordered his uncle. Harry blinked in surprise, yet he was too frightened of Uncle Vernon's smile to ask for a reason.

Harry waited for a few minutes listening. There seemed to be some sort of conversation going on up in the kitchen, but he could not distinguish the words being said. He sat nervously on a large drills crate from his uncle's company, banging his feet against the unfinished wood. Feet shuffled up on the kitchen floor, drawers banged open and shut. Were they taking out a knife? Were Dudley and Uncle Vernon going to eat him for dinner?

However, when the Dursleys came down the stairs they were not holding knives. They all smiled placidly at him, even Dudley. Harry stood and started backing up towards the wall. Each of the Dursleys was holding something behind their backs, and Harry was reminded eerily of the clown dream.

"ONE, TWO, THREE!" shouted Uncle Vernon. All three of the Dursleys whipped out cream pies and hurled them at Harry. The multitude of pies blurred his vision. In the fray Harry lost his glasses and fell tripping to the floor. But the stream of pies did not let up. Somehow the Dursleys seemed to have obtained an endless supply of pies, and they were relentless in their barrage against the tiny eight year old boy. Dudley had somehow also obtained a catapult for his pies, and now launched them at his cousin, being too tired to throw them. Harry slammed up against the wall, thinking of what a cruel world he lived in, and then passed out.

_Three Years Later…_

Albus Dumbledore made his way quickly to the Hospital Wing. He was very worried about young Mr. Potter, but had been delayed from visiting the boy due to the fact that he had had a dead- well they were just ashes- body to clean up, as well as mailing the Flamels, the Ministry, and the parents/guardians of the three students involved in the whole Philosopher's Stone business. With the nature of the school's occupants, he had also taken the long way to see Harry in order to avoid any distractions or questions aimed his way. He was also hoping not to run into his deputy, for he was certain Minerva would not be pleased with the whole incident. Sure, she would be proud as long as Harry was all right, but he would not hear the end of this until the End of Term Feast _next_ year.

Unfortunately, luck failed him on the last part for Professor McGonagall was storming down the corridor towards the Hospital Wing. When she saw him, her nostrils flared unpleasantly and her eyes narrowed. "Well, Albus, if I haven't said before-"

"And I know you shall say it for the rest of my life, Minerva. I deeply regret that all of this happened to them right under my nose," replied the Headmaster.

"They are only children Albus!" she hissed. "I know that you knew that they knew about the stone! To go off knowing perfectly well that someone might try to steal it!"

"It is extremely difficult to ignore the calls of the Wizengamot," said Dumbledore.

"Surely they could have waited!" exclaimed his deputy. "And hiring Quirrell! You said he was _harmless_! You said _Quirrell_ would be _safe_!"

"Well I had hired him before when he taught Muggle Studies," responded Albus wearily.

"He had hair back then!" grumbled McGonagall. "And don't try to convince me it was some sort of new mannerism. The man was obviously hiding something."

Sighing, the Headmaster pushed open the door. He walked up to the hospital matron, Madam Pomfrey, with Minerva following him close behind. The matron was rushing between her medicine stores and the curtained off bed. Minerva gave him an evil eye. Oh, he was going to get it later.

"How is he, Poppy?" asked Dumbledore. Madam Pomfrey turned to face the two administrators.

"Well, he'll definitely recover from his injuries from yesterday evening," replied Poppy.

At least he would not be dying tonight from unnatural causes brought on by a certain staff member, the Headmaster thought.

"However-" the Matron continued.

"However?" questioned Minerva, glaring at Albus.

"There seems to be a sign of some sort of abuse from earlier in life," finished Madam Pomfrey.

"Abuse?" inquired the Headmaster, taking his glasses off.

"_Abuse_?" seethed McGonagall, her eyes twitching.

"Yes," replied the Matron. "There are these odd circular scars and bruises that seemed to have come from at least a year ago."

"So they were probably obtained-"

"At home, yes, Headmaster," responded Poppy. "I would suggest that you look into the at-home situation. Perhaps he should stay with someone else. Arabella lives just across the way."

About ten minutes later, the Headmaster was walking down the hall, the Deputy Headmistress flagging him. "YOU SAID THAT IT WAS PERFECTLY SAFE FOR HIM THERE! I TOLD YOU THEY WERE THE WORST SORT, BUT DID YOU BELIEVE ME? _NO!_ YOU SAID THAT HE COULDN'T STAY WITH ANYONE ELSE! HE COULD HAVE STAYED WITH MOODY! HE COULD HAVE STAYED WITH REMUS! HE COULD HAVE STAYED WITH THE WEASLEYS OR THE LONGBOTTOMS OR ANY OTHER WIZARDING FAMILY!"

**Heheh, yeah so the Harry-abuse situation made the list just due to the fact of how common it is amongst fanfiction stories. Seriously, there's nothing funny about child abuse, but cream pies are acceptable (somewhat). After that and Aunt Petunia's pudding we would not be surprised if Harry avoided cream for life. XD**


	11. Chapter 11: Oh, the Sweet Smell of

**Alright, so this one is dedicated to a friend of ours. He came up with the idea one day when we were talking about weird pairings that somehow have become common. Our fedoras are off to you, good sir.**

**Chapter Eleven:**

**Oh, the Sweet Smell of Nothing**

The Dark Lord was nervous: very, very nervous. He was actually rather ashamed of the fact since he was the most feared wizard of all time. It was a tough position to hold. The Death Eaters and the Wizarding community expected him to be dark and overbearing and killing people all the time, but here he was, their fearless leader quaking in his Furbie print underwear. Standing before the calendar, Voldemort was finally reminded of a very important fact. It was crucial to his own existence besides that of the Best Sorcerer in the World. Today was his anniversary.

He was not married, but it was not exactly just a dating relationship. Everyone knew that she was enamored with him. However, they all assumed that it was one way. Only his sweet Bella knew that he was madly in love with her as well. And here he was gawking at the calendar. He had almost forgotten that today was their semi-official second anniversary, and he had no gift for her. The Dark Lord was in deep poopy if she found out.

To give him some credit, it had been a difficult past few months. Harry Potter was no where to be found, and the Elder Wand was proving almost impossible to find. He'd even murdered some Bulgarian woman and her two kids in the former house of Gregorovitch on his quest. Murdering people did not bother him, but the fact that the Bulgarian Ministry now had their Aurors out after him and his Death Eaters was annoying and troublesome. If he had known that killing some lady and her brats would cause such uproar, Voldemort would have just wiped their memories instead. The Dark Lord had only returned from his most recent search the night before, and now again he was in a pile of doo-doo.

He shifted his eyes about his room. It was a wreck: dark billowy robes lay spread across the bed, the chairs, his table, and even in the shower. The books that he had left in a pile before his journey now were scattered across the floor, note paper pouring out like jointed insect legs. There was nothing valuable here to give Bella. It was also imperative that he tell Wormtail to clean this room after the next meeting. He found it much more satisfying watching the rat of a man scrub the ebony floors than to see a house elf do the same maneuver with a magic snap.

It would also be impossible to go shopping, seeing as he was still in a sense a wanted mass murderer. The Dark Lord also lacked skills in disguising himself, so that was out of the question. He would have to remind Severus to brew him some Polyjuice Potion in case he ran into an event like this again. "Perhaps I should make a list of these things next time," the Dark Lord said to himself.

Voldemort then slipped on one of his robes; it was time to get down to business. He then summoned a couple house elves he was now familiar with. Going out right now was not an option, for Bella was living in the room at the other end of the hall. If it were not for the fact that the Death Eaters needed to appear good, the Dark Lord would have bought his own flat by now. It figured he was seventy-one and still had yet to own his own place. He grinned: Voldemort now had an idea.

OoO

Somewhere in the world, in a rather peaceful suburb there lived a Muggle boy. This boy loved taking photographs and wearing fedoras, but most of all, this boy loved his nose. It was quite a giant nose that many called a beak and various other names, yet it was his pride and joy. There was no one in the world with a nose quite like his; in fact, several people theorized that an evil alien lived behind it, but that was another story.

One day, this young Muggle boy named Gabe walked happily down his street. He had just developed his most recent photos of a tea party one of his friends had thrown. Gabe whistled as he tilted his black and gray striped fedora to just the right angle; today was a good day. However, he did not know that on this day his life would change. As he reached the hedges in front of his house, a masked man popped out, brandishing a white stick threateningly.

"Put your hands up!" hissed the man in some sort of accent. Gabe did as he was told, not quite sure what to make of the situation. The man was cloaked so it was very hard to determine how tall the man was. From the little skin exposed, the boy could tell that the man was unnaturally pale, almost as much as the skeleton mask he wore. Then Gabe gasped: not because of the blood-red eyes behind the mask, but because the man had no nose. "Give me your nose!"

"No!" exclaimed the boy, rightfully terrified. "Wait! How am I supposed to give you my nose? I can't just take it off my face."

The man lowered the stick for a couple seconds in thought, but quickly raised his stick again. "I-I'll hex it off!"

"You'll what?" asked Gabe. "Look I don't know what kind of game you're playing here-"

But then the man shouted, "_Sectumsempra!_"

Gabe yelped as his nose came clean off his face. The masked man cackled as he hoisted his beautiful nose up into the air. "Victory is mine!" he hollered, running off. Unknown to the Dark Lord, Gabe had a special power. After crying for a few minutes over his precious nose, it grew back.

"Oh, that was close," sighed Gabe. Shrugging lightly, the boy walked back into his house in order to start pasting his new photos into an album for all of his friends. It was not quite the same, but it was still his nose.

OoO

John Wilson was having a normal day for that of a London real estate agent. He had shown off a few houses earlier that morning and was quite sure that the last one would sell within the next couple days. As he sat in his usual coffee shop sipping a mocha latte, his personal phone began to ring. John wondered who could be calling him now; perhaps it was his boss or his wife, Jaime. But when John answered the phone, someone barked at him from the other end.

"Get over here quickly!" snapped a man's voice on the line.

"Who are you and how did you get this number?" questioned John, a bit nervous.

"It was on your sign, you twat!" sneered the man. He then gave the address of a flat that John had been trying to sell for the past year. John thought about asking someone to go with him, but a customer was a customer. He would just be extra careful.

When he pulled up in front of the building, John saw one of the strangest sights in his life. It had not been a man on the line, but instead an extremely ugly woman. She had bright orange hair styled in a messy perm. Her face was painted with obnoxious pinks, reds, and blues. Horn-rimmed glasses sat on top of a beak of a nose. She had even mixed a plaid coat with a floral printed dress! Mr. Wilson had to remind himself, 'A customer, is a customer.'

The woman looked up at him as he shut his car door. "Mr. Wilson?" she asked in her very manly voice.

"Yes, and you are?" asked Mr. Wilson.

"Mrs… Malfoy…" stated the woman hesitantly, red eyes roving the pavement. She then stood there for three minutes before jutting her hand out.

Mr. Wilson shook it reluctantly. "Well then, Mrs. Malfoy, let me show you the flat." He led her up a flight of stairs to the second floor and then to the flat in the corner. It was a bit of a fixer-upper with all the peeling paint, so it was no surprise that it hadn't sold yet. However, it only took five minutes before Mrs. Malfoy spoke up.

"IT'S PERFECT!" she shouted in strained excitement. John Wilson jumped several feet before he registered what she had said.

"Oh.. well then, I shall bring the paperwork by your place tomorrow," he began saying.

Mrs. Malfoy cut him off. "That's alright. We can just fill it out now."

"But Madame-"

John could not remember what happened after that. All he knew was that when he went back to the office that afternoon the flat was sold and the legal process done. He was glad to be rid of the place.

OoO

Bellatrix Lestrange could not understand why the Dark Lord had called her out to this part of town. It was very out of the way of the Wizarding section of London, but he was the Dark Lord. She took out the piece of parchment that had appeared on her bed. "Flat 12B," she read to herself. She burned the note before entering the building. When she reached the door she noticed the sign on it read, 'Malfoy.' Bellatrix knocked tentatively.

To her astonishment and relief, one of her sister's house elves opened the door. "Tilly will take Mistress Bellatrix's cloak if she wishes," said the elf. She thrust the robe at the creature and then strode into the main room. The place was larger than it looked from the outside, and cleaner than the lobby. Fresh paint had been enchanted on the walls and the décor was in a sense oddly fashionable.

As she walked into the dining room, she gasped. Candles floated around the high ceiling and at the other end of the room sat her master. "My Lord!" she exclaimed. "What is going on here?"

"Sit with me," he ordered. Bella almost swooned into the chair; his orders made her do that. The meal was quite good: roast hippogriff thigh, tentacula leaf salad, mead, treacle tarts, and a flaming pudding among other things. Voldemort snapped at the elves to leave after the dishes were done and led her off through the rest of the flat.

The last room they reached was the bedroom. Bella forgot that the Dark Lord had no sense of décor. Bright pink paint graced the walls, fuchsia carpet lay on the floor, and under the countless heart pillows and unicorn plushies and Furbies was a magenta floral bedspread. Merlin, this room was ugly.

"My Lord," inquired Bellatrix once more, "what is this?"

He had gone to lie among the overly cutesy bed decorations. "Why, this is my gift to you."

"Unicorn dolls?" she asked. Anger was welling up within her. "And those creepy Muggle toys?"

"DON'T CALL FIFI CREEPY!" he bellowed, grasping one of the toys and stroking it protectively.

"Well it is!" she hollered back. "Why do you insist on decorating your room like this?"

"It's not just my room," he explained menacingly. "It's our room."

"Our room?" she questioned, obviously surprised.

"Yes," he said, rubbing his temples. "I bought this place for the two of us to share until I dominate the world. Then we shall have our own castle with Muggle slaves serving our every whim."

Bellatrix blushed deeply. The Dark Lord- _her_ Master- had bought this apartment to spend time with her. She was about ready to faint. Sure the room was less than desirable, but it was something that they could share together. She sat down on the bed next to Voldemort and held his cold, bony hands.

"Happy Anniversary, Bella," the Dark Lord whispered into her ear.

"Happy Anniversary," Bellatrix murmured back.

"Kah may-may u-nye."1

"I love you too, Fifi."

**And that is why VoldemortxBellatrix should **_**never**_** happen. It's just creepy. While we admit Bella has an unhealthy obsession for her master (Seriously, what's up with people named Bella who have unhealthy obsessions for pale freaky people?) Voldie just doesn't like her back, folks. He only has eyes for Fifi—We mean Nagini. Yeah, Nagini. On a side note, sorry about your nose, Gabe. It just had to happen.**

1: **I love you in Furbish. We're not even kidding.**


	12. Chapter 12: Ronbashing, Pt 1

**Finally, an update!**

**Ok guys, this is one of the big ones. Some of you will laugh, some will hate us for eternity, and others will be indifferent. Regardless take a chance at reading this spin on an extremely popular theme that has been running unchecked and unopposed in the Harry Potter fandom. Get ready for…**

**Chapter Twelve:**

**The Cruel and Unreasonable Punishment of Ronald Weasley**

**Part One**

**For your reading entertainment, and simply because it will be more organized, we have decided to split this chapter into different sections, because there's just THAT much to poke fun at. Not even kidding, we've done the research on this one.**

**Section One:**

**The Portkey Incident**

The Weasleys, Diggorys, Harry, and Hermione stood around the old boot that would transport them to the Quidditch World Cup. Harry was slightly nervous, but in a stroke of genius that was incredibly out of character, he decided to observe Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric to see how they handled a portkey. Then nothing bad would happen to him! (Why Harry felt that something bad would happen otherwise, no one is quite sure, as he didn't know how a portkey worked at this point.) Of course, he made sure to quietly tell Hermione, his super-smart-amazing-talented-knowledgeable-awesome Best Friend Forever (Harry was decidedly ignoring Ron at this point) to do the same.

Hermione smiled and nodded, and the way her not-so-perfect teeth (for a girl with dentists for parents) gleamed and the way the sun hit her super-bushy-but-beautiful hair made his heart melt. She was sooooo pretty—wait where did that come from? He didn't _like_ Hermione like that, she was just his best friend! 'Not so from the dreams you've been having about her lately' a small voice said in his mind. He blushed and replied 'Shut up.' (Because Harry talks to himself now. Fantastic!) At any rate, he didn't say a word to the Weasley children—let them figure it out on their own!

They finally were transported across space, and as they were coming down, Harry and Hermione mimicked what the adults were doing perfectly even though it was their first time, looking like they were riding invisible unicycles (and yes, that looks about as dumb as it sounds). They both landed gracefully on their feet, and laughed at the sight of the younger red-heads sprawled on the ground. Harry spotted Ron starting to rise and decided to finally help him, because Harry's the better man in this story people. As he held out his hand, the youngest Weasley boy said, "Gee mate, teach me that next time!"

Harry recoiled, appalled at the other boy. "I'm sorry Ron, I thought you knew how to use a portkey! Why are you being so mean about it!"

Ron Weasley, meanwhile, was confused. He had meant to go on and tell Harry how "bloody brilliant!" that had been, but then his friend had cut him off with this. What was he even talking about? "Well, I didn't know, mate, but—"

"I finally learn something about the Wizarding World successfully and you just try to ruin it! It's not our fault Hermione or I was raised in the Muggle World, you know!" Harry yelled.

"I know that, Harry, I would just appreciate it if—"

"What more do you want from me, Ron! I do so much for you!"

"Really Ronald," Hermione entered the conversation, looping her arm with Harry's while glaring at her red-haired 'friend'. "Harry's already saved everyone from Voldemort, he can't do everything."

"Wait, what? And I was just thinking that since he taught you how to land right, he could—"

"Oh I see, you're just jealous of Hermione, that's what this is about. You're angry because she's just a better friend than you." Harry said, adding a scowl for good measure.

"Why would you say that? I've always been there for you—"

"No, you've just been there for the Boy-Who-Lived's glory, admit it," Hermione cut in again.

"That's not true!" And it wasn't. But then, Mr. Weasley spoke up finally.

"Ronald, stop it this instant or I'll have to send you home. Harry, Hermione, I'm sorry about him, I don't know why he's being so rude. But you're absolutely right, our family owes you so much, even though we've housed and fed you, sent you gifts, and risked a kidnapping charge just to save you from your relatives every once in awhile. I'll have a talk with Molly about Ronald's behavior once we get back."

**Now here's where things can become different during this moment.**

**Version 1**

Ginny waltzed up to Harry, swaying her hips like any normal thirteen-year-old girl trying to seduce a fourteen-year-old boy. "Harry~" she said, batting her eyelashes at him. "I know Ronnie was being a mean wittle boy, but that doesn't mean you don't wuv me, wiiiight?"

Harry rolled his eyes in digust. "Go away, Ginny, no one likes you."

"Aww, you don't mean that Hawwy~" Ginny pouted and plotted how to slip a love potion into her soul-mate's tea.

**Version 2**

Ginny walked up to them, shaking her head at Ron. "Sorry about the prat, Harry and Hermione. I don't even know how we're related."

"Me neither, you're way better than Ron, Ginny," Harry said.

"Really?" She said, smiling happily.

"Yeah, you should hang out with us instead." Harry smiled back.

"But just as friends," Hermione cut in quickly.

"Of course," said Ginny, "in fact, to rid this of awkwardness, I'm going to fall in love with and start dating Neville, and he'll be one of our best friends too from now on."

"Yay!" the New-And-Totally-Better Golden Trio said together, while Ron was dragged off by the twins to be used as a test subject for their experiments.

**That's the end of this section. Seriously though, why does this moment always become such a big deal in fanfiction? It's over in like two minutes in cannon.**

**Section Two:**

**The Reading of Sirius Black's Will**

It was a somber mood that fell over the people gathered in an office at Gringotts. The Weasleys (minus Bill, Charlie, and Percy), The Tonks family, Remus Lupin, and Albus Dumbledore were gathered for the reading of Sirius Black's Last Will and Testament. They had just managed to get rid of Draco Malfoy and his mother, despite their protests that Draco should inherit everything as 'was his right', when the door suddenly banged open again. In walked Harry Potter, hand-in-hand with Hermione Granger. Ron raised an eyebrow, unaware that his two best friends were dating (Harry had just told Hermione his feelings and asked her to be his girlfriend outside the door five minutes ago. She had immediately said yes.). Harry sent a smug smirk at Dumbledore and said "Thought you could keep me away, did you, you old coot?" Ron's mother gasped at the blatant disrespect just shown for one of the most powerful wizards in the world, and Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"Actually, Harry, Alastor informed me you had left Number Four five minutes ago via the Knight Bus. I suspect he'll be waiting to escort you home again after the proceedings." Harry deflated a little, but seemed to regain his composure after Hermione squeezed his hand reassuringly, and they sat down near the goblin in charge, side-by-side. They still hadn't acknowledged Ron, even though he had smiled at them and waved, even motioning to two empty chairs beside him at the other end of the table.

"Alright, I'm ready," The Boy-Who-Lived said, looking to the goblin.

It sighed, then said. "Very well. I shall begin reading the will. 'I, Sirius Orion Black, being of not-so-sound mind and body, do hereby give the following items to the following people…..'" There was a pause as he scanned the page, then the goblin said "I shall simply skip to the names." Ron wondered what Sirius had said that the goblin refused to read out loud.

"'To Nymphadora Tonks,'" the young woman in question looked ready to kill "'I give 10,000 galleons, spend it well, cousin.'" Now her eyes were filled with tears and she smiled a little sadly. "'To Andromeda Tonks, who was there for me when the rest of my family wasn't, I hereby reinstate you into the House of Black and return your dignity and honor.'" Andromeda wiped at her eyes with a handkerchief and leaned on her husband's shoulder.

**Have to split this as well, because it depends on whether or not these characters are bashed as well in the story.**

**Version 1**

"'To Remus John Lupin, someone I thought was my friend. I give you 1,000 galleons because I feel sorry for your condition. It would have been more, if only you had actually tried to help Harry, you coward.'" Remus bowed his head in shame while Harry and Hermione looked pleased in a vindicated sort of way. Ron was incredulous, he'd thought Remus and Sirius were best friends!

"'To Arthur Weasley, Molly Weasley, and Ginerva Molly Weasley, I give the advice, though I doubt you'll heed it: Stay away from Dumbledore. The meddling fool is only using you. Don't follow him blindly.'" Ron's parents looked confused and a little irritated, while Ginny pouted at not having gotten anything else.

**Version 2**

"'To Remus John Lupin, my oldest friend, I also bequeath 10,000 galleons and the deeds to a house owned by the Black Family in the English countryside. I know you don't accept charity, but I'm giving it to you as a friend. Take care of Harry for me, Moony.'" Remus managed to smile through his tears at the couple seated up front, who smiled kindly back at him.

"'To Arthur and Molly Weasley, I give you 10,000 as well. That should help get the kids through school.'" His parents looked stunned, but grateful.

"'To Fred and George Weasley, I give you 1,000 galleons investment in your joke shop and the following phrase: Mischief Managed.'" The twins looked shocked at the familiar words, and turned to Harry for confirmation. He nodded, and both said in low voices "Wicked."

"'To Ginerva Molly Weasley, I give 1,000 galleons, thanks for being a good friend to Harry, and for cheering me up over the summer when he wasn't there.'" Ginny looked sad and tears welled in her eyes, but she smiled down the table at Harry and Hermione.

"'To Hermione Jane Granger, I give 200,000 galleons and the entire Black Family Library, because you're Harry's super-smart-amazing-talented-knowledgeable-awesome Best Friend Forever. I hope you like it, and you and Harry should totally get together. Right. Now.'" Was Sirius suddenly a matchmaker? Hermione looked ecstatic, but both she and Harry blushed a bit.

"'To my Godson, Harry James Potter, Prongslet, Prongs Jr., Mini-Prongs, Son of Prongs, Pup, Cub, The-Son-I-Never-Had, The Little Marauder, I give you all the rest of my fortune and any other possessions. I'm sorry it had to be this way, but don't be too sad I'm gone. You still have Hermione, I know she'll never abandon you.'" Harry gave said girl a winning smile through his tears.

"'Oh, and to Ronald Bilius Weasley,'" the goblin said, and Ron wondered why his name had been put last. "'I was originally going to give you 200,000 galleons and a Firebolt, because I thought you were Harry's best friend, but fortunately, my godson revealed to me who you truly are. So you don't get anything because you're a horrible person, a terrible friend, and should have never existed. Ha.'"

Wait—what? How was he a horrible friend, and why would Sirius say such mean things about him? They had gotten along fine the last time Ron had seen him! Harry and Hermione truly were leering triumphantly at him now, looking down the table at him as though he had deserved every last hateful word.

"Harry, mate, why—"

"Why? Because it's the truth; Hermione is a way better friend than you, you're terrible. I never want to see you again Ron. And if you think about trying to steal her away from me because you're jealous, well she's got a few tricks up her sleeve." Hermione was fingering her wand and staring at him like a scientist would at a lab rat.

"I don't understand!" Ron wailed as he was dragged home by disappointed and angry parents, "What did I do wrong?"

**End of Section Two. Yeah, that's pretty much how those things go, especially the 'being of not-so-sound mind and body' part. Really, it's in pretty much every Sirius Black Will Reading scene in every fanfiction we've ever read. It stopped being funny a long time ago.**

**That's all for now folks, considering this is already near five pages long. But please, if you have bashing suggestions, any fandom character plotholes you want laughed at, feel free to review and ask! We write for you guys. Thanks for dropping by!**


	13. Chapter 13: Harry Potter and the Author

**Ok, so here we go with another Kingdom of AU! We're sure almost all of you have read at least one of these, the story-within-a-story, the greatest shattering of the fourth wall, it is time to read the **_**Harry Potter**_** series like never before! By having it read to you- in bold type!**

**Chapter Thirteen:**

**Harry Potter and the Author with Freakishly Accurate Information about His Life**

Harry Potter, age 16, was having a relatively normal day for once. The sun was high in the Saturday afternoon sky, his homework was finished, he was laying on the grass under the beach tree with his friends and beautiful girlfriend, and their had been no report of Death Eater activity that morning.

It was always the normal days that turned out like this.

WHUMP

"Ouch!" Harry exclaimed, head pounding from the impact of something solid and rectangular dropping on top of it from nowhere.

"What's the matter, Harry?" Ginny asked, turning around from where she had been sitting propped against his knees. Ron sat up, concerned for his friend as well, and Hermione put down her large book.

"Something hit me," he said rubbing his head where a lump was no doubt forming. He glanced to either side and found the culprit: another book. "Hermione," he said, a little terse, "I know you feel like you have to read through the Hogwarts library as fast as you possibly can, but that doesn't mean you just toss a book aimlessly at innocent bystanders when you finish it," he started to hand it over to her, when she retorted,

"I don't know what you're talking about, Harry, this is the only book I brought with me," she frowned at Ron's muttered, "Thank Merlin," before continuing, "I have no idea where it came from." She took the book from him anyway, interested in its contents and how it had come to fall on her friend's head.

"Hey, that old man looks like Dumbledore," Ron pointed out, referring to the old man on the back cover, along with an owl and some architecture that vaguely resembled the arches at Hogwarts.

"Who's P. L. Travers and Ronald Dahl?" Ginny asked, reading the message at the top.

"They're famous Muggle authors," Hermione said, taking over, "people often compare different authors to each other if they think a book is good. And apparently it is, listen: **'"A Delightful award-winning debut from an author who dances in the footsteps of P. L. Travers and Ronald Dahl." –**_**Publisher's Weekly,**_** starred review'**"

"So it's a Muggle book, then?" Ron asked to clarify.

"Yes, and- oh!" Hermione gasped, turning the book over and gaping at the front cover.

"What is it Hermione?" Harry asked her, worried that this book was somehow dangerous. After all, the diary had nearly been the death of Hogwarts.

"It-it's," she swallowed, then said, "It's a book about _you_ Harry!"

"Well that's hardly unusual, is it?" Ron asked, looking a little amused at his friend's terror. "Loads of people wrote books about Harry when we were kids, they wanted to cash in on his fame."

"Wait- they what?" Harry asked, shocked and a little outraged.

"It's true," Ginny said, "that's really how you became so famous. We all read about you killing vampires and meeting kings and curing Dragon Pox. You were a regular Lockhart." She grinned, watching him grimace at the comparison. Hermione seemed to snap out of her shock just then.

"No, it's not that it's a book about Harry, listen to the title," here she read aloud again.

**"Harry Potter AND THE SORCERER'S STONE, J.K. ROWLING"**

"The Sorcerer's Stone!" Ron exclaimed. "But how did they find out about it?"

"And who's J.K. Rowling?" Ginny asked.

"I don't know and I don't know," Hermione answered. "But we didn't talk about it to anyone, save Dumbledore, and I don't imagine he'd blab to some Muggle author. That's the funny thing though, I've never heard of J.K. Rowling, and if her book's so great, I should have seen it in a store or something."

"Well, she can't have made it up, that's _me_ on the cover," Harry said. "And I'll bet that that's Fluffy over there inside Hogwarts, and that that really _is_ Dumbledore on the back. How did she get all this information?"

"Maybe she dug around like Rita Skeeter?" Ron suggested.

"Perhaps," Hermione agreed. "Here, there's usually a short summary about the book on the inside cover. I'll read it aloud." And so she did.

**"HARRY POTTER has never been the star of a Quidditch team, scoring points while riding on a broom far above the ground. He knows no spells, has never helped to hatch a dragon, and has never worn a cloak of invisibility.**

**All he knows is a miserable life the Durselys, his horrible aunt and uncle, and their abominable son, Dudley—a great big swollen spoiled bully. Harry's room is a tiny closet at the foot of the stairs, and he hasn't had a birthday party in eleven years.**

**But all that is about to change when a mysterious letter arrives by owl messager: a letter with an invitation to an incredible place that Harry—"**

"Stop! Hermione, stop it!" Harry yelled, wrenching the book from her tight grasp in horror.

"Harry- what? Why don't you want—"

"She knows _everything_! It's freaking me out! She knows everything about my life! Oh Merlin, I have a _stalker_!"

"Well that's hardly unusu—" Ron started to say again.

"A really good stalker!" Harry amended.

"Merlin, Harry," Ginny seemed to realize something truly frightening. "She must be staking out your place! And Hogwarts!"

Harry started frantically flipping the pages.

**"CHAPTER ONE THE BOY WHO LIVED—LETTERS FROM NO ONE—THE MIDNIGHT DUEL—FLAMEL—TRAPDOOR—THE MAN WITH TWO FACES—"**

"It's all here! Everything!" He flipped the last page, shut the book, and set it down when suddenly more books rained down. Six of them to be exact.

"Oh no! No! Bloody hell, no!" He protested, even as his friends began to look at them.

"Hey, this one's about our second year, has to be!" Ron said and then read.

**"THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS"**

"Here's a book about the tournament!" Ginny waved a rather large tome in the air.

**"THE GOBLET OF FIRE"**

"Here's one about the Order!" Hermione said in a shocked whisper.

"She infiltrated _headquarters_?" Harry couldn't believe his ears and eyes. He began to envision:

**"The rest of his life in written down- every word, every thought –for prosperity, in bold face—"**

**"THE DEATHLY HALLOWS" **He heard Ginny read in a confused voice.

"What's The Deathly Hallows?" Ron asked in equal confusion with his sister.

"I dunno, it's the last one, though," she replied.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, "do you know what this means? That must be about our seventh year! It can tell us how to defeat Voldemort!" She snatched it up before he could stop her.

"No, Hermione, no! I don't want to know, don't read it!" He made ready to plug his ears in case she disobeyed his wishes.

"But—don't you want to know how it all ends?" She asked, uncomprehending. "If we all—" mesmerized, she began to open the book to the last page.

"NO!" Harry shouted, grabbing it and slamming the future-book shut. Instantly more objects rained down from nowhere. Where was this woman hiding, there was no one in the trees! "No! No more, we don't want them!"

"What are _these_?" Ron asked, holding up a slender rectangular object.

"That's an audio cassette—a recorded 'book on tape'," Hermione explained. "This is a VHS, it's how Muggles watch recorded movies on the television. These—well, they're some kind of CD, but I- I think they must play movies!"

"These look like some weird block-dolls," Ginny commented, holding up a box that supposedly held a 'Hogwarts Express Set' complete with Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy, and Luna Lovegood—"

"LEGOS?" Harry exploded.

"Yeah, and posters, sticker books, Wizarding Recipe books, bulky toy wands that have a flashlight in them, t-shirts, lunch boxes, something called a 'Snuggie' Hogwarts robe—"

"That's _it_!" Harry seethed, gathering up the inconceivably huge pile of merchandise, books, movies that had a boy who looked alarmingly close to himself on the cover, and audio tapes, and stomped over to the lake. Once there, he flung everything in, and watched it all sink, preferably to the bottom. It was as though a weight had suddenly been lifted from his shoulders.

"Haha! Take _that_! What do you think of your precious merchandise now! How do you like me _now_, J.K. Rowling! YOU BLOODY STALKER!" he bellowed to nothing in particular, returned to his friends, and collapsed once more on the grass.

"Now _that_ was just creepy," he said, breathing heavily like he'd just run half-way around the world to lose his stalker. All three of his friends nodded.

**And there you have it. Personally, we feel that that is the proper reaction to finding out that someone knows everything that you have ever done. Therefore, writing stories about how Harry and the others read the books is silly. Very silly. Join us again next time!**


	14. Chapter 14: Harriet the Witch

**Well, here goes the next Kingdom of AU chapter everybody! Here's a personal favorite of those who like slash pairings but might be too squeamish to write it themselves, or for those who are über feminists. Either way, enjoy as we shamelessly mock another cliché. **

**WARNING: Alcohol usage and some swearing. You have been warned, so sayeth the warning.**

**Chapter Fourteen:**

**Harriet the Witch**

"So, you see— you see, right? –you see, I've just been feeling weird, man. Like, I dunneveno. It's just…." Harry trailed off, staring into the near-empty glass in his hands as if it held the word he was searching for. Wow, he was so plastered, the seventeen year-old knew he should have never agreed to this.

"Crazy?" His equally drunk godfather supplied. The man was doing better now he was allowed out of Grimmauld Place and wasn't considered an escaped convict anymore. He was also better at holding his liquor than the rest of Harry's dorm mates. Neville had fallen asleep on the bar after his second drink, Dean following soon after. Seamus…well, he'd wandered off somewhere with some Ravenclaw in their year. Not really that surprising, Seamus was a handsome bloke…

Damnit, there it was again! Shaking his head, only serving to increase the dizziness at the edges of his vision, he instead turned his eyes toward Ron, who was conscious, but just kept tracing a circle in the wood bar of the Three Broomsticks.

"Yeah, crazy. It's like, all of a sudden I'm just kind of angry for no reason, but then… I'm really sad and almost cry—you tell anyone and you're dead, you know that?" He pointed the olive from the martini he'd tried for kicks very seriously at the older man. Sirius Black, for his part, raised his hands in acquiescence.

"Hey man, it's cool, it's cool. I'm not telling anybody; Marauder's Honor." That last part seemed very earnest, even logical to Harry's intoxicated brain. But something still made him pause.

"Is that even real?"

"Hell no, made it up. If we had had things like honor, where would that have left us?"

"True, true."

"Ye-p," he popped the p. "But it's okay. I won't tell. You're my only friend."

"Sirius, Remus is totally your friend."

"No, no Harry, he left us. We are less important."

"It's not his fault it's his and Tonks's anniversary tonight so he couldn't come. At least, I don't think it's his fault. Aaand, aaaand—oh yeah! Didn't you set 'em up anyway?"

Sirius thought about this for a long time. A reeeeaaaalllly long time. "Yesh," he finally decided. "I did."

Harry blinked. "Alright then. But, so, I also really want to go to Honeydukes. Like all the time. They have awesome candy, man. And chocolate."

Sirius's ears seemed to perk like the dog he was so often compared to. A bead a sweat appeared on his forehead. "Chocolate, you say?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, uhh, Harry…thing is—the thing is, iiiiiit's—"

"What." Sirius looked at the ground, at his drink, at Ron, anywhere but his own godson. Finally, he downed his drink.

"Whatever. Someone's got to tell ya. And it might as well be me, seeing as how I'm your brilliant godfather and all."

"What are you talking about?" Harry really didn't know what Sirius was getting at.

"Well, you see—you do see, right? –you see, Dumbledore's dead."

"Yes, I saw it happen."

"An' your parents are dead."

"Yes, I—well, I didn't really _see_ it happen, but I was there."

"Well, they cast a speel—"

"A speel?"

"A _spell_, Harry, why're you making up words?"

"You—I dunno, actually, why am I?"

"Hell if I know."

"Well go on then." He gave a nod of encouragement, which Sirius reciprocated.

"Right. Well Harry, they cast a spell on you just after you were born. One that only they, the Healer that helped your mom—you know –and me. Oh, and Remus, but he's ancient history. Probably doesn't care to remember seeing as how he left us and all."

"Well that's a right shame of him."

"It is Harry, it is. So, they cast a spell—"

"On me?" Harry even pointed to his chest.

"Yes, you," Sirius agreed.

"And what did it do."

"It made you a man."

Harry was silent.

"Well," his godfather amended, "not a man, cos you were a baby, you were, and that would just be silly. But you—you seem confused."

"Course I am, that doesn't make any bloody sense."

"Well, okay, you know when, in the muggle world, some parents have a baby, and they get blue things from all their neighbors if it's a boy, and pink things if it's a girl?"

"Yeah," Harry had seen such things a few times on Privett Drive.

"Well, your parents would've gotten pink things, but then they cast a spell on you and didn't tell anybody, so the pink things would've been blue then."

"So you're saying, I was _born_ a girl, but I'm not?"

"Exactly."

"You're drunk. I'm drunk."

"Harry, I'm hurt by your lack of confidence in me!" Sirius swung an arm up to his chest to indicate the hurt, sending one of the many empty bottles surrounding him crashing to the floor.

"_Reparo_," Madam Rosemerta called from the other end of the bar.

"I'm not drunk. He's drunk," his godfather pointed an accusing finger at his best friend.

"I take offence to that," Ron muttered absently, moving on to tracing squares.

"Thank you, Ronald. But you see, Harry. Since Dumbledore's dead."

"Yes."

"And your parents are dead."

"Yes."

"The spell is wearing off, and you're becoming more like a girl. Cos you are one. Or you were one, rather. Why can't Remus be here? He's much better at this."

"I think he abandoned us to be with Tonks. Something about Annie in Surrey?"

"He _did_?" Sirius's eyes welled with tears at this new betrayal. "I would've never believed it of him. Traitor!" He accepted the pat on his shoulder from Harry. "Thanks, Harry. You know, you're my only friend now."

"That's very nice of you to say, thanks Sirius. But you've got to be lying about me being a girl."

"I am not, I'm really not. Why would I?"

"I dunno. Maybe it's funny?"

"But Harry, then my best and only friend would be a girl. And that would be weird at times."

"Yeah. So I can't possibly be a girl then."

"Oh yes you are." Sirius seemed really determined about this point!

"Prove it," Harry finally said defiantly.

"Psssh, easy," Sirius suddenly lifted his wand straight at his godson. "_Finite Incantatum_."

And suddenly, Harry just felt _different_.

(S)He stared. Sirius stared. Ron finally had fallen asleep. Neville snored. And somewhere far away, Remus John Lupin felt vaguely irritated and worried. As if someone kept talking about him…

"I dun like it."

"Me neither."

"Change it back."

"Coming right up. _Reverse Finite Incantatum_."

"That's way better."

"I agree."

"Why the hell would Dumbledore and my parents make me a guy if I was a girl anyway?"

"I dunno. Something about it making you safer."

"That's the dumbest thing I ever heard. And I grew up with Dudley."

"Dumbest thing I ever heard, too, and I grew up in a family of inbreeds."

"Being a girl's stupid anyway. I'm a man."

"I'll drink to that."

Neither would remember in the morning. Of course, it was the third time that month they had had that conversation anyway.

**And there you go. Harry's a man, folks. And girl's don't take offense, it's all in good fun. And who can resist the humor that is Drunk Sirius?**


	15. Chapter 15: Spawn of Snape

**Well, it's been a while, but here's something new for you to read. We realize the holiday has passed, but for those of you still in a Halloween mood, I'm sure just the thought of this will be terrifying enough. Enjoy!**

**Chapter Fifteen:**

**Spawn of Snape**

Harry James Potter was walking aimlessly down the corridor on a Sunday afternoon with nothing to do, having finished his homework thankfully, when he rounded the corner and bumped into someone.

"Sorry, my fault," he apologized quickly, and went around. But…something seemed to almost be keeping him stuck there. "Urgh!" he exclaimed without being able to stop himself, for as he pulled away from the other person, a long string of…grease? was still connecting them, leaving a dark stain on his white shirt from where he had made contact.

In fact, on a second glance backwards, the person's hair was oozing with grease! He managed to force back a gag as the other student—who he did not recognize—turned a blank, black-eyed stare upon him. And suddenly he also realized he did not know whether this person was male or female. Dark oily hair hung in a rather girly curtain around the face, but that nose….that nose couldn't belong to a girl, or he would feel incredibly sorry for her.

"The blame is partly mine as well, however, I would suggest you watch where you're going." Even the voice gave him no clues! If only the other person wouldn't speak in that monotone. And a realization hit him.

"Hey!" He called after the retreating figure. "Are-are you related to Professor Snape?"

"_Levicorpus!_" He was suddenly wrenched upward, and Harry had never been so terrified in his life. What kind of spell was this? The dark eyes bored into his own green ones, and them he began floating quickly along with the other person's movements, down the stairs, into the dungeons, deep, deeper than he'd ever been in the school since the Chamber of Secrets, and finally they came to an old wooden door. He was relieved, because hopefully it would be warmer in there than it was out in this corridor, even with all the torches.

His kidnapper knocked on the door in a particular pattern. It was yanked open after a moment and in the doorway stood none other than Harry's least favorite teacher—Snape himself. Yet another pair of black eyes bored into his own, before stepping back and allowing them through. Once in with the door slammed shut, Harry was dropped painfully to the stone floor. It was still cold.

"Ow…" he muttered, starting to get up, back Snape grabbed his collar and snarled,

"How did you figure it out, Potter?" Harry blinked for a second, before stammering back a reply.

"Wh-what are you talking about? Sir." He added quickly as Snape looked really mad this time.

"How did you discover that she is my daughter?" Was the harsh reply, and he was finally shoved backwards, grateful to be free.

"Er…" he glanced between the father and…daughter (he really did feel bad for her), before replying, "Sir, she looks exactly like you. I mean, it's kind of obvious." How much easier could it have been? Greasy black hair, creepy black eyes, ugly hooked nose, pale skin, no emotion except anger…yep, definitely Snape.

The Potions Master, for his part, did not get angry, and instead began to pace in…worry? "This is not good. Her identity must be made a secret. If an idiot like you could figure it out, who's to say no one else will?" Harry bristled a little, but made no comment. "The identity, and even the existence, of my children has been a closely guarded secret for years. If my enemies—" But Harry couldn't go without interrupting now.

"Hold on a minute, _children_? As in, multiple?" Snape did not look at him, and instead turned to his daughter.

"Tell him, father. He must know eventually." Still monotone.

Snape nodded, seemingly decided, before turning a serious gaze onto Harry. "Yes, children. You see, I had a very short, if not tragic, romantic past." Harry cringed, trying not to put the words 'Snape' and 'romance' in the same sentence. "I have three children. One of them is a son, who was given birth to by the love of my life. He lives in this castle and is unaware of his true identity even now—"

"Merlin's Beard, Malfoy's your _son_?"

"What are you prattling on about!"

"Your had an affair with Mrs. Malfoy? That's so—gross!" It was childish, but true.

"No, I did not, I have no feelings for Narcissa Malfoy! The love of my life was Lily Evans!"

"Who the bloody hell was that?"

Snape's eyes flashed in anger. "Lily _Potter_ nee Evans! _You_ are my son!"

It was dead silent for at least a minute. Before Harry stumbled back in horror, that is.

"Wha-what? I'm your—_I'm_ your son? Buh-but how? Why? What?" Snape sighed, and pulled out his wand.

"_Finite Incantatum_." And Harry's hair just felt…dirty. He resisted the urge to touch it, and the urge to run to the nearest mirror.

"So…I'm your son. My mum cheated on my da—on James Potter—with you."

"That is correct," Snape replied.

"My mum's a_ bit_—"

"Don't you dare call her that! She was a wonderful person!"

"Sure, she married my—James Potter—then had a fling with you on the side, covered it up, and decided to have another go and give birth to _her_!" He shouted, gesturing towards his sister. She merely blinked.

"That is not true! She's your half-sister. Half-cousin."

"Wait, _what_?"

"Her mother is Petunia Dursley nee Evans." Harry's anger ground to a halt for a moment. Then:

"WHAT?"

"It was a short moment of bliss in the never-ending downward spiral of my life," Snape only said, gazing out of his dungeon window onto the lovely view of the murky lake-water. Ooh, was that a grindylow!

"Th-that's—I can't believe you! Next you'll be saying that you had a fling with McGonagall and gave birth to Hermione!"

"You shouldn't make fun of our sister, Harry," Snape's still unnamed-daughter said, and his jaw dropped.

"No…" he said, but Snape did nothing to deny except to say.

"Jane Granger is her mother, not McGonagall. Honestly, give me some credit."

"No! No, I won't give you any credit at all! You're disgusting, you know that! Having affairs left and right with every person's mum in this whole school! How the bloody hell are they even attracted to you! It makes me sick, and I'm going to hope I forget this ever happened!" He stormed towards the door, but Snape called out to him.

"You will not speak to your father in such a tone, young man." But Harry only laughed.

"Father, huh? Okay, you may be my father, but there's no way in hell I'll listen to you. You've done nothing but ridicule me since I got here, you make me miserable, and you know what? You may be my father, but James Potter—he sacrificed his _life_ for me—he's my dad! _Reverse Finite Incantatum!_" And hair just as messy (and dry) as usual, Harry left the dungeons.

**Yeah, that turned out more serious than funny at the end, but it stays. This chapter was really more pointing out the fact that Snape's character—and a lot of female characters—are ruined by this plot device. I'm not a huge Snape fan personally, but stories like this do nothing to endear me to him. I don't care how much of a jerk you find James Potter to be, it does not excuse his wife cheating on him. And I think Harry would be disgusted on his true "dad's" behalf, and I don't see how he could grow to like his 'real' father. Sooo big rant over, please review and thank you for reading!**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**


	16. Chapter 16: Weasel Stomping Day

**Here we are, back with another chapter of parody. Now, this isn't necessarily AU, and sometimes it's fun to draw comparisons between your favorite songs and your favorite characters, but sometimes songfics can just be confusing. Also, the random lyrics take up a lot of space on the screen. Anyway, it's just so easy to mock!**

**Dobby's Socks**

**Chapter Sixteen:**

**Weasel Stomping Day**

Crabbe and Goyle pushed the heavy oak doors open and Draco stepped outside into the light. He took a deep, satisfied breath and a smile spread across his face.

_Faces filled with joy and cheer_

_What a magical time of year_

_Howdy Ho! It's Weasel Stomping Day_

They were joined by the other Slytherins on the Quidditch team, all decked out in their best equipment and brooms. It was that time of year again.

_Put your Viking helmet on_

_Spread that mayonaisse on the lawn_

_Don't you know it's Weasel Stomping Day_

They were waiting when the three youngest Weasley brothers strode onto the pitch. Together, the team dived on their brooms in attack, amidst the yells of their targets and the thundering roar of approval from their housemates in the stands.

_All the little girls and boys_

_Love that wonderful crunching noise_

_You'll know what this day's about_

_When you stomp a weasel's guts right out_

Once Carbbe and Goyle had beaten them down enough with the Beater's Bats, the best part of the day came. The Slytherins got off the brooms and began to stomp on the filthy redheaded Weasleys. Draco took great enjoyment from the sharp crack caused by his booted heel smashing into the youngest boy's face.

_So, come along and have a laugh_

_Snap their weasely spines in half_

_Grab your boots and stomp your cares away_

_Hip hip hooray, it's Weasel Stomping Day_

The crowd of Slytherins in the stands came rushing out onto the field to join the fun. Yelps, grunts, and muffled shouts of pain filled the air as the green and silver mass kicked, jumped on, and tore at the three boys.

_People up and down the street_

_Crushing weasels beneath their feet_

_Why we do it, who can say?_

_But it's such a festive holiday_

A couple of the first year Slytherins were looking a bit pale, but as they began to see how fun crushing blood traitors was, they soon joined in with greater vigor than some of the older students.

_So let the stomping fun begin_

_Bash their weasely skulls right in_

_It's tradition, that makes it okay_

Marcus Flint caught one of the Creevey brothers watching in horror and pulled him over by his robes. The disgusting half-blood was trembling in fear, as he should, but for once they simply wanted him for an innocent purpose. So Creevey gratefully took the picture for them; all the Slytherins smiling together while standing on top of the Weasleys.

_Hey everyone, it's Weasel Stomping_

_We'll have some fun on Weasel Stomping_

_Put down your gun, it's Weasel Stomping Day_

_Hip Hip Hooray, it's Weasel Stomping Day_

_Weasel Stomping Day__Hey!_

**Wrote that in about two minutes. Writing songfics is super easy, maybe we should just do that from now on! Just joking, we promise. And see how weird they are? We just wrote what would normally be a terrible and inhumane chapter and yet you're probably laughing because of some silly italicized lyrics! Songfics, one of the strangest things on fanfiction.**


	17. Chapter 17: In Dependency

**Okay, so it's time for a new chapter. Hmm… wethinks it is time to deal with one of our biggest gripes with fanfiction: Independent!Harry. We're sure the first few times this kind of fic appeared it was very insightful. However, now after five billion of them things seem to go like this…**

**Chapter Seventeen:**

**In Dependency**

Harry Potter was brooding. He had been doing that quite often during his stay at the Dursleys'. Here he was, trapped for another summer in his bedroom. No, in his _cage_. That's what Number 4, Privet Drive was: a prison.

What did it matter, that he was safer here? Sure, it had been proven that Voldemort had broken into Gringotts, Hogwarts, and the Ministry of Magic and this was the only place he had yet to breach, but Harry would rather be dead than trapped.

So why had he returned to this jail cell? Because he had listened to Professor Dumbledore's calm explanation of why it was safe here. Dumbledore; the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, the whole reason why Harry was in the position he was in.

Dumbledore had guided him every step of the way, Harry could see that now. The safeguards on the Philosopher/Sorcerer's Stone? Obviously handpicked by Dumbledore because he knew for certain that the three first years would be able to pass them, or even that Ron and Hermione would come along, too. The Chamber of Secrets? Dumbledore let the Board Of Governers remove him so Harry would be forced to go after Ginny, since of course the old wizard knew that she would be the one to be taken to the Chamber and knew that Harry could speak Parseltongue the whole time. The Prisoner of Azkaban ploy? Why, Dumbledore of course sent Harry and Hermione on their little time travel journey knowing that Harry was taking Patronus Lessons from Lupin, the man probably reported to him after every one! And the Goblet of Fire! He must have purposefully allowed Crouch Jr. into the school, it made perfect sense. He needed Voldemort back for good to feed his huge ego, no doubt, and he obviously could tell that Moody was a fake even though the man had enough mental power to break an incredibly strong Imperius Curse. Then the Occlumency lessons; he'd even admitted it was a mistake to hide from Harry, giving the meager excuse that Voldemort was a known expert at possessing people without them even knowing it.

From the very beginning everything in his life had been planned. He probably even met the Weasleys on Platform 9 and ¾ because Dumbledore told them to be there, since of course he would know the exact time Harry would arrive at King's Cross. It had to be, otherwise what were the odds he would overhear one of the loudest, most conspicuous groups of people of his life?

Yes, it all made perfect sense now. Well, now that Harry was aware of the strings attached to him, tugging at every turn, he would snip them.

"Try making me do anything ever again, you old coot."

OoO

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat calmly at his desk, sipping some tea the House-Elf had graciously brought him, and leafing through some paperwork. Unfortunately, it seemed Severus would get his wish to be the DADA teacher this year. He hoped his friend and fellow Order member would have better luck than the last few professors. Then again, with the plans he had set in motion to save the poor Malfoy boy…

Speaking of unlucky members of the student body, Harry Potter's owl Hedwig zoomed in through the window, a letter held in her talons.

"Ah, that must be the reply to my letter, thank you my dear," he smiled and removed the letter for the snowy white bird. The owl only shrugged and managed to look uncomfortable, so the Headmaster offered her some owl treats he kept handy in a bowl. He had written to Harry to let him know of his intention to take the boy from his home in Surrey to the Burrow, where Albus was sure the Gryffindor would love to spend the rest of his summer.

_Headmaster Dumbledore,_ the letter began

_While I appreciate your correspondence, I would like to inform you that I will not be requiring transport. I have been doing a lot of thinking about the war and my role in it, so I would like to continue in that way uninterrupted._

_Signed,_

_Harry James Potter_

Dumbledore looked up from the letter. He sometimes wondered at the sarcasm of teenagers. "Very well," he told Hedwig pleasantly, "as long as Harry wishes to stay with his relatives, then it's perfectly alright that he do so. Perhaps they will learn to be a family yet." The owl did not seem to share his feeble hope.

OoO

Harry was just as miserable for the rest of the summer, but he still felt he had achieved a minor victory. He had refused to just trot along with Dumbeldore's plans, he had refused the man something. He often laughed about his success with gleeful abandon, reminding his owl, "I'll bet the old coot didn't see that one coming!" However, a week after that Hedwig left by herself, cage and all, for the Burrow. Uncle Vernon was so pleased. He smiled the entire day and didn't even insult Harry. In fact, the man congratulated him on finally getting rid of that "blasted bird."

But now it was time to finally return to Hogwarts, his home, the only place he felt he truly belong—wait one bloody minute! _Dumbledore_ was in charge of Hogwarts! There was no way Harry could truly belong there! Or for that matter, be safe there! Why, he was just a tool being put through its paces every year by means of his crazy concocted creations!

This now made Hogwarts the very pits of hell. Harry would much rather stay at the Dursleys' where he had far more independence.

Aunt Petunia dropped his lunch in through the cat flap as Harry pointedly stared out of the barred window, even though she couldn't see his snub through the heavy oak door of his room. Not sure whether to eat it immediately or deny the satisfaction of knowing his starvation, he idly tapped his wand against the desk while he thought. It was about the only thing Harry was able to do with the holly stick.

OoO

It was the start of term feast and Professor Dumbledore was glad to see that Harry had made it there safely in one piece although he did look rather grumpy. Normally the boy was all smiles when it came to the start of term. Today, however, something was off. He did not really have the option of addressing the issue now, so instead he stood up and waited for students to quiet down as per usual so that he could give the customary welcome.

The hall as per usual grew silent except for the voice of one individual. That person was Harry Potter. Harry seemed to be taking great enjoyment in holding an in depth conversation with the empty pumpkin juice jar before him. Apparently whatever it was saying was quite funny for Harry was laughing in response. "I guess now that _that_ is over everything is just crystal clear, wouldn't you say? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Mr. Potter," interrupted Professor McGonagall, "we would be much appreciative if you would quiet down so that we can start the feast. The Headmaster wishes to give the yearly welcome speech."

"Well you can tell the old coot to stuff it!" snapped Harry. "It's just a speech. 'Blah-blah-blah, welcome to Hogwarts. Blah-blah-blah I'm awesome. Blah-blah Do exactly everything I say. Well you know what, kids? When you do everything Dumbledore says, you end up almost dead. Every time."

No one quite knew what to say. The Deputy Headmistress stood spluttering in absolute shock and disbelief at the brazen words. The Gryffindors around the boy, in particular Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger, stared, mouths agape. The other students of the hall had gasped or stared in horror. Even the Slytherins, not Dumbledore's biggest fans, were completely speechless. Dumbledore himself blinked for a minute.

"Harry, I was not quite aware I had this effect on people. I'm not sure how accurate that is, or if it is true at all, but—"

"But nothing! You just cover it up by acting like everybody's Grandfather. But it's all a lie, cos you're just an old coot and—"

"Now _see HERE_!" Exclaimed a voice, and the Headmaster resisted the urge to sigh. Harry Potter had chosen to annoy the wrong magical artifact. "Maybe you're life's been absolute hell and 'oh so tragic', but at least you've _had_ one!" The Sorting Hat shouted from his stool, but he didn't stop there. "Where would you be without Dumbledore? Dead, that's where _you'd_ be, nobody would know a thing about you except the fact that you got killed by some crazy drunken Death Eaters pretending to be law-abiding citizens, but the world would move on!" Dumbledore saw a few Slytherins, notably Mr. Malfoy, bristle at the last comment and tried not to think of the several angry owls he would be receiving soon. "Nobody would miss you! But, oh no, everything's _Dumbledore's_ fault, he's the bad guy, never mind the fact that because of him you have food, a roof over your head, an education; never mind you owe him _everything_. Castor and Pollux, you sure have a lot of nerve talking that way!"

"But he—" Harry tried to cut in, but the Headmaster already knew what would happen. The Sorting Hat always steamrolled over any protests when he really got going.

"_But nothing_!" He echoed mockingly, "And maybe it's just a speech to you, but how would you have liked it as a stupid doe-eyed first year to have some kelpie of an upperclassmen stop the Headmaster from telling you things you need to know? That's just absolutely rude to your peers who have nothing to do with it! And anyway, _you_ think it's boring? Try being _me_! _I've_ had to sit through every bloody word every year this school has been running! See how boring that gets for you! And you've never heard Armando 'Monotone' Dippet give it, either!"

The Sorting Hat took several deep breaths, assuming he actually needed to, and then snapped at the Charms Professor, "Well, aren't you going to take me back now?"

"Er- yes," stuttered poor Filius, and he grabbed the stool and made his way down one of the aisles and out of the quiet hall.

Harry abruptly stood. "This isn't over!" He shouted at the Head Table, and left his Treacle Tart unfinished. The boy was obviously serious about it; treacle tart was his favorite dessert.

"Oh dear," Dumbledore muttered under his breath, not looking forward to all the told-you-so's from a certain oily haired colleague…

OoO

Harry's stance was made clear the next morning at breakfast. Professor McGonagall was handing out schedules to students as usual, and though there seemed to be some discomfort among the Golden Trio, nothing unusual happened as she gave all three their own pieces of parchment. Until Harry spoke.

"Professor McGonagall, who exactly writes these schedules?"

She paused at the unexpected question, but after a moment's thought, answered, "Well, Mr. Potter, they are a collaboration between the Headmaster, the Heads of Hou—"

"Right, thank you," he interrupted, holding his parchment back out to her. "I won't be following this."

"You won't?" She asked skeptically.

"No, I won't," he answered simply.

"Then, if you don't mind my asking, Potter, what do you intend to do?"

"I'll make my own schedule," he said confidently.

"Harry!" Hermione Granger said in a scandalized tone. "You can't just ignore your schedule. You need to take those classes if you really want to become an Auror!"

"But, Hermione, all my life I've just been following along, doing everything Dumbledore tells me to do. I'll bet he influenced my choices in my electives! He wanted me to establish some kind of connection with Trelawney. And Hagrid's super prejudiced against Slytherin's, so Dumbledore wants me to hang around him as much as possible. Plus he mandates all my other classes! I had no say at all first year!"

"Erm, Harry, everyone needs to take core classes if they want to be an accomplished wizard at all," Ron Weasley pointed out sensibly, "And _Hargid's_ prejudiced?"

"Sure he is, he hates Slytherin House."

"A Slytherin was the reason he was expelled; of course he'd bloody well be prejudiced!"

"Ronald, Ronald, Ronald, you have to see past the hate. It's all a smokescreen that old coot uses to hide who's the _real_ villain. Himself."

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Severus Snape asked rhetorically, drawing up to the side of his frustrated, yet silent colleague. "More of Potter's absolute nonsense? That hat was right about one thing, you most certainly have a lot of nerve to even _attempt_ to discredit the Headmaster. If your Head of House permits, I will have you in detention for at least a month if you do not desist, now." The Potions Master's words were laced with a deadly tone. But Harry turned sad eyes on him.

"I understand you're just doing your job, sir. But I want you to understand I know what it is like. And I forgive you for being an absolute git to me all these years. You've had to struggle, trapped by two masters of manipulation. I pity you, Professor Snape."

"What?" Snape ground out, but Harry continued.

"I just want you to know that you can do it. You can escape from them. I know, sometimes it seems like an impossible battle, but _trust me_; freedom is worth it."

"Er, Harry," Hermione interrupted for her friend's sake, given that he was increasing Professor Snape's anger with every word. "If you don't plan on taking the courses necessary to become an Auror, what do you want to be?"

"Something that allows me my independence, something off the beaten track, that the old coot never intended…like a Curse Breaker!"

"A Curse Breaker?" The bushy haired girl repeated incredulously.

"Yeah, a Curse Breaker! I'd get to travel, see the world, be on my own—"

"But Harry, you haven't taken Ancient Runes, you sort of missed the boat on that one, mate. Plus you'd still need to take all the classes you're already signed up for," Ron pointed out, knowing these things from watching his brother Bill grow up.

Harry either did not hear, or he did not acknowledge his friend's advice. "Or maybe, I'll open a business! It'll become so successful, and I'll open stores across the globe! It'll be a great business, one that will help people to stand on their own two feet, independent of manipulators like the old coot!"

Snape, rather sarcastically, remarked, "With the skills you have already completely mastered from your incomplete education, you could take some of that limitless gold in your vault, wander the globe, and just randomly run into people who will house you and require assistance."

As a sixteen-year-old, it seemed Harry Potter had yet to fully understand sarcasm.

"Wow, what a brilliant idea! Thank you Professor Snape; I knew there was hope for you yet!" He pumped the Potions Master's hand up and down in gratitude, Snape ripping it from his grasp as soon as possible, ran at top speed to Gryffindor Tower, packed his bags, ran back down to the Entrance Hall, caught his breath for a moment, and swept dramatically out the front door and through the front gates.

OoO

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was playing chess with the Sorting Hat, trying to keep his mind off the fact that poor, untrained, practically defenseless Harry Potter had run away from Hogwarts. There wasn't much to be done, as Mr. Potter had what was known to very few as the Cloak of Invisibility and the Marauder's Map, and so could quite easily evade any search parties. He would have to hope that someone, preferably not a Death Eater or sympathizer, would find the boy, or that Harry would perform some kind of magic that would allow the Ministry to find him.

He absently took another of his opponent's pawns when a loud, impatient knock pounded on the door.

"Come in," he offered in what he hoped was a reasonably cheerful voice, not sure what he would say to a colleague, what he would explain to some Ministry official, what he would do to calm Molly Weasley—

"Harry!" He exclaimed, all traces of exhaustion or sorrow gone, shocked and overjoyed upon seeing the boy unharmed and back within the castle walls.

"Alright, listen you old coot," Harry began, walking fully into the office. "I don't know how to Apparate and the stupid Knight Bus is closed cos Stan was arrested, so I can't get off this bloody rock. Mind fixing me another one of those Port Keys like last year? Somewhere on the European continent would be nice, maybe Greece or Belgium?"

"But, Harry," Dumbledore found himself simply going along with the conversation, "You don't know any foreign languages."

"I know that, I'm not stupid you old coot, much as you tried to stop me from getting smarter. It's your fault I don't know any other languages anyway."

"Languages aren't offered here at Hogwarts, Harry. I've tried to start a program, but the Board of Governors won't go along with it. It's out of my control."

"Right, well, I've heard of these things called Language Lozenges, you've got to have a few of those right? Or maybe some kind of device, I see you've fixed them all." Harry picked up one of the silver instruments and thankfully did not throw it this time.

"Well, I could see what I have, but what about a passport? And lodgings? How will you pay for this all with just your trust vault?"

"Er, right. Yeah, I've thought about that. You're the Head of the Wizengamot and Supreme Mugwhatever, right? I'm sure you could manipulate the Ministry into giving me a passport, or maybe a visa. And, about the money…well, I'll apply for emancipation! You can get me all the paperwork and such, seeing how I can't really get to Gringotts and all."

The Sorting Hat was staring at the pair absolutely shocked, but Dumbledore caught what could be called the Hat's eye and winked a single blue one back.

"Well, yes I believe I can manage all that, Harry. But it may take some time, so I ask that you stay patient. In the meantime, why not enjoy the end of your stay at Hogwarts with your friends? I'm sure they'd be very put out if you didn't attend class with them while you still could. I believe Professor McGonagall still has your schedule."

"I think I can accept that. Alright, old coot, I'll stick around while your get everything lined up for me." And Harry Potter departed the office with his things.

Dumbledore let a relieved smile light his aged face, and sank serenely into his chair by the chess board. The Sorting Hat stared at him shrewdly.

"You know, that was quite the bit of handiwork there. Are you sure you're not as manipulative as he claims?"

The Headmaster only chuckled. "Dear Hat, I meant every word I said. I shall help Harry arrange for all his paperwork and various necessary things to overcome language barriers and the like, just in time for his traditional trip around the world when he graduates. For now, though he may not see it, I would find it quite horrible indeed to deprive him of his last moments of childhood, before he is thrust into the adult world."

**So, yeah. There you go. Independent!Harry is silly. And not very probable. Happy New Year, everyone! Thank you for reading, and please review!**


	18. Chapter 18: The Necromancy Continues

**Hey everybody, we're back with part two of an old plot of ours. Hope you enjoy the 'revival', if you will.**

**Dobby's Socks**

**Chapter Eighteen:**

**The Necromancy Continues**

Harry Potter was bound and gagged to the headstone of the father of his greatest enemy, and terrified out of his mind. In that cauldron there before him, Voldemort was transforming. While the gross baby-thing had been horrific enough, Harry was sure he did not want to see what came out of it.

But when the smoke finally cleared, there stood a fully restored Dark Lord. The cauldron was quite large, so Wormtail came forward to help his master climb out. It ended up looking quite awkward, as the rat was still missing one hand and bleeding at the stump, and the cauldron tipped over causing the evil snake-hybrid to tumble out quite ungracefully.

He was also naked, and Harry closed his eyes so as not to actively help his nightmares. As a result he, nor anyone else, noticed the potion in the cauldron spilling outward toward the prone, cold body of Cedric Diggory.

"Wormtail you clumsy idiot! I think I stubbed my toe," the Dark Lord hissed, massaging said digit with his long spidery fingers. When Wormtail finally collected himself, he turned over Voldemort's wand. The evil wizard first robed himself, and took mercy on his servant's blood-loss issue. Harry finally felt it safe to open his eyes.

Much of the rest of the scene progressed as the reader remembers, therefore causing it to be utterly pointless and boring to type. However, it should be noted that when Harry Potter escaped, Voldemort screamed something that to his Death Eaters sounded oddly like, "Curse you, Do-Gooder-Chicken!"

OoO

The past few years had been quite stressful to Minerva McGonagall. The aging Transfiguration professor had seen such things as possessions of immortal alchemists, corpses of large, legendary reptiles, and Sirius Black dropping out of the ceiling tiles more times than she could actually remember.

What had been the worst, however, no one was supposed to mention. That was, of course, the highly talked about Zombie Near-Apocalypse of '94. Only due to some rather quick thinking on her part, and her trusty Zombie-Alert-Alarm*, were the Aurors able to arrive and take down the reanimated bodies of Lily and James Potter. What happened to their bodies afterwards, no one was quite sure, though it was rumored that the Department of Mysteries was holding them.

As the carnage had been small (poor, dear Sally-Anne Perks) and the only living Potter had been unconscious and resting in the Hospital Wing for the umpteenth time, the Ministry had decided not to mention the incident to the greater Wizarding public. Something which Minerva considered a grievous error.

She was to be proven right. Harry Potter suddenly appeared in the Triwizard Arena, cradling the body of his somewhat friend and fellow Howgarts peer Cedric Diggory in his arms and sobbing. While students and teachers alike had begun cheering, that gradually changed to confusion and then absolute sadness. Diggory had been such a kind boy.

"He- he asked me to bring his body back," Harry was crying to the Headmaster when she reached the little group, slightly behind Amos Diggory who began weeping over his son's body. "I don't know why he was so insistent about that."

Suddenly, the seventh-year's eyes snapped open, but she realized it wasn't cause for celebration.

"Ced…?" breathed Amos, disbelieving.

"BRAINS!" shouted the Hufflepuff, rising up from the ground and lunging for an unfortunate Ministry worker.

"Zombies!" She screamed for the second time in as many years, sending students and staff once again into panic. They really needed to practice drills or have contingency plans for this sort of thing. She pulled the practically petrified Potter to his feet, as he had no idea of the danger, and commanded, "Potter, your broomstick!"

"Wha—? Oh! _Accio Firebolt_!" It was there within minutes, and she then gripped the boy firmly by his shoulders.

"Potter, I need you to fly to the Astronomy Tower. Behind the purple tapestry is our Zombie-Alert-Alarm*. Press it; it will send a distress signal to the Aurors and bring them here. Go!" He was their best and fastest flyer, and now their only hope for survival. Harry nodded.

"Er, right Professor!" He zoomed off in a blur, and she turned her attention now to the menace on the pitch. She had spent months filling these students' heads with knowledge, and no zombie was just going to have at their brains.

"Students, to the castle! Teachers—ATTACK!"

**Aaaaand too lazy to write an epic battle scene. But there you have it: the long-awaited sequel to the zombie-saga. Got to admit, was tempted to turn Ced into a vampire instead, but that wasn't the point of this chapter and it's a cheap joke at best by this point. Anyway, we hope you enjoyed this, thanks for reading and please review!**

***Patent-pending**


	19. Chapter 19: The Babysitter's Club?

**It's a troll holiday. My condolences to the family of Mr. Trololo, but now I shall commence in massive trolling to celebrate that song that always gets stuck in my head, not to mention the hilarious lip-sync video that goes along with it.**

**Dobby's Imaginary Sock**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. The rights belong to JK Rowling.**

**Chapter Nineteen:**

**The Babysitter's Club?**

Alastor Moody felt mocked when he saw how bright and cheery the weather was outside as he stormed through the halls of Hogwarts. True, he was not supposed to be there. He doubted that a Ministry official nor any parent for that matter wanted him within thirty giant's footsteps of the school grounds, but Albus had invited him. Albus Dumbledore was also currently late for their meeting.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts had secretly called Moody, Tonks, and Lupin to the school to discuss pressing matters concerning the Order of the Phoenix- matters that would only have caused a certain Sirius Black to continue his spam mail campaign against Cornelius Fudge ("Really! It's slowly working! He'll go insane by the end if you'd just buy me more envelopes to fill with Weird Sister Flyers and UFO warnings!"). Sirius had promised reluctantly to stop after Moody had cited the recent Muggle technological advances in the field of forensic science, but if he heard any more about the Ministry's bigotry Moody was certain the man would go wallpaper the Minister's office with flyers himself. That would do the Order no good.

This meeting, however, would also be no good if Dumbledore didn't show his face soon. Moody was not a patient man, and seeing as it would be worse if either Tonks or Lupin were spotted in the hallway, Moody had elected himself to go look for the wayward professor. He finally frightened- he meant _persuaded_- a little Slytherin first year into divulging the Headmaster's current whereabouts: he was in Snape's office having a meeting with the Potion's Master and the High Inquisitor. Moody really didn't want to see let alone speak with Dolores Umbridge, but he would do the former if it meant that Dumbledore would finally come to the damn meeting. He'd just have to hex Umbridge and perform a memory charm on her so he wouldn't be seen.

The sight that greeted him upon kicking open Snape's office door was not at all what he expected…

Snape, Dumbledore, and Umbridge were apparently not the ones occupying the office at present. The stupid first year had lied to him. He would get that punk back later. A group of two very old wizards and a witch greeted him at the door.

"Professor Moody!" croaked the witch. If Moody had never seen a hag before, he had sure seen one now. The witch had wild gray hair that stood out several inches from her wrinkled face. "Thank Merlin!"

"Who the hell are you?" he asked gruffly. Moody turned to leave the office but one of the old men grabbed his arm to prevent him from going.

"Please! You've got to help us!" exclaimed the first old man. His face was littered with freckles and age spots, and he sported a rather thick beard. The beard must have made up most of his weight, for despite being stooped over the man was bone thin.

"That's not a good idea-" began the other man. He had messy, spiky white hair that fell over his face. This man was much shorter than his compatriot and stood bowlegged with shaky, knobby knees. He also sported a very thick pair of round glasses.

"Look, I didn't know Severus kept a bunch of lunatics in his office- though I'm not surprised- but I have a meeting to attend. If you'd be kind enough to point me in Professor Dumbledore's direction, I'd be much obliged," said Moody. "Furthermore I was definitely _never_ your professor. It's bad enough those idiot kids out there still call me 'Professor' Moody."

"Professor Dumbledore is over there," sighed the witch. She pointed over to the corner of the room. "But if you'd please listen for a moment-"

Moody brushed past her to have his word with Dumbledore when he noticed four skeletons sitting in chairs. It almost looked like they had been drinking tea at one point out of a very basic white porcelain set. Three of the skeletons sat in wooden chairs around Snape's desk and the fourth sat behind it in a wheelie chair. Moody did not like the looks of this. It was obvious what had occurred here.

He whipped around and pointed his wand at the three old people. "Alright," he spat. "I don't know how long you've been down here, but it's certainly not long enough to get away with murder."

"Why did you just show him in?" hissed the first old man. "Now he's going to hex us."

"Great job," grumbled the second old man.

"I know this looks bad, Professor Moody, but we can explain!" shouted the hag in great panic. She clutched her heart. "Oh, I think I'm having a heart attack!"

The two men ran to catch her as she began to fall. Moody rolled his eyes. Old people could be so over-dramatic. "HERMIONE!" shouted the two men. Moody almost dropped his wand. He didn't know what the hell the two men were talking about, but that was _not_ Hermione Granger…

"Alastor?" asked a male voice from the door. He turned his head to see Tonks and Lupin standing there. "You've been gone a long time, so we thought we might look for you."

"What the hell happened here?" inquired Tonks, stepping over the fallen hag the men had called Hermione. "You just can't go anywhere without finding a murder or some other crime, can you? I've got to commend you on this one. It looks pretty twisted."

"Professor Lupin!" called the first old man. He grabbed Lupin by the front of his robes. "You've got to help us! Hermione is dying!"

"Hermione?" questioned Lupin. He looked down at the hag skeptically.

"That's funny," snorted Tonks. She nudged Moody in the ribs. "They just called her Hermione."

"It's true!" shouted the second old man. He stood up and glared at Tonks and Moody. "And I'm Harry and he's Ron!"

Moody saw Lupin and Tonks both drop their mouths open. He might have done the same when he was their age, but he wasn't quite convinced. "If that's so, then what spell did Lupin teach you in your third year?"

"The Patronus charm," replied the old 'Harry' angrily. "I can cast a full body one that appears as a stag. Are you satisfied yet?"

"Fine," he groused. This day was turning into a big head ache. He had not expected to find three teens turned into old crones. "How the hell did this happen?"

"Umbridge dragged us in here with Fred and George," explained old Harry while Lupin, Tonks, and Ron tried to resuscitate Hermione. "She thought we were planning something, but we were only talking about Saturday's Quidditch match against Slytherin. That explanation wasn't good enough, so she brought us down here trying to get Dumbledore to suspend us. She sort of shoved us into the room too hard, though, and someone bumped into a potion Snape had left on that table over there. The room filled with smoke, and then we were like this!"

Moody looked over at the aforementioned table. The tiny square table had spindly legs and probably should not have been right in the middle of the small office nor have been holding something dangerous like a potion. The vial that had held the potion lay shattered on the ground. He didn't even see a stopper. Moody was going to have to give Snape a speech on constant vigilance once this issue was resolved. There was only one hole in the story.

"Where are the others then?" asked Moody.

"Well, the potion turned us old, so it turned the others even older," said Harry. "The skeletons are Professor Umbridge, Professor Snape, Professor Sprout, and Madam Pomfrey."

"And the twins?"

"Well… it didn't seem to work quite the same on them…"

Two red-haired identical babies crawled out from behind Snape's desk, giggling madly. Moody felt his magical eye twitch. Nearly grown Weasley twins were bad enough. He really didn't want to deal with baby Weasleys who had somehow defied the laws of Potion's physics.

"Hermione thought it might be because they already turned themselves old last year," stated Harry. "And Dumbledore- Fred! George! Stop playing with Dumbledore!"

The twins were playing with a pile of ashes. Go figure. Harry ran over and snatched the twins off the floor but immediately dropped them as he complained about his aching back.

Hermione revived much to the everyone's relief. She began to cry hysterically, and Ron shouted at her not to get upset or she'd just have another heart attack. Moody raised his wand and shot sparks into the air.

"Alright!" he shouted. "This is a big mess, but we've got to clean this up! As much as I'd like to leave Dolores Umbridge like this, those three are going to be charged with murder if we don't change her back. Personally, I think we need Dumbledore and the others as well, and I'm certainly not watching Molly raise those two a second time. Lupin! Tonks!"

"Yes sir!" called out Tonks, clicking her heels like a soldier. Lupin just looked at Moody politely.

"We don't have Severus, Poppy, or Pomona to brew a potion, so it's up to you two," commanded Moody.

"But I'm really bad at potions!" exclaimed Tonks. She broke her salute from earlier. "You know I almost failed that part of the Auror examinations!"

"Too bad," huffed Moody. "Unless you want to take care of Fred and George…"

Tonks grabbed Lupin by the hand and pulled him out of the office. "Come on, Remus! We've got work to do!"

"But I didn't agree to this!" cried out Lupin.

"Now the rest of you are staying in here until they get back," ordered Moody.

The three old teens looked horrified at the prospect. Fred and George giggled and rolled around on the floor trying to grab each other's feet.

"You don't mean-" gasped Ron.

"That's right," declared Moody. "Until you're turned back to normal, I'm your babysitter."

The old people fainted in a nervous heap. Moody levitated the two twins away from Dumbledore's ashes and placed them down near the broken potion bottle. "You two!" he barked. "Start cleaning this place up! I'm not letting you off easy just because you're small." He was going to have those damn brats trained to do his bidding by the end of the night. There was no way he was changing any diapers or anything a real babysitter would do.

**Alright, so obviously the theme for this chapter was all those people getting turned into babies by potions stories. Thought I might add a twist and make them old instead. XD It took about three times to get this chapter right, but I think I got it now. Please review! We're still accepting themes!**


	20. Chapter 20: The Five Times Plus One

**Not sure why I can never write to the prompts you guys actually request, but I promise one of the Socks will get around to them. Now, this theme/prompt/whatever has been floating around quite a few of the fandoms on this site, and while initially cute and fluffy and _romantic_, it gets pretty boring fast. How boring, you ask? You're about to find out.**

**Dobby's Polka-Dotted Sock**

**Chapter Twenty:**

**The Five Times Harry Potter Said Hello to Ginny Weasley**

**And The One Time She Said Hello to Him**

The first time Harry met Ginny Weasley was in King's Cross Station. In fact, it was the first time he had met any Weasley. So, being the shy—yet polite—eleven-year-old that he was, Harry Potter said, "Hello." And Ginny blushed and looked at her toes.

The second time Harry Potter said hello to Ginny Weasley was the first time he came to her house. Her three youngest-but-older brothers had just rescued him from the Dursley's, which was an incredibly thrilling tale, but the readers wanted this instead. She ran downstairs to the kitchen to ask her mother about missing laundry or something equally mundane, but then her eyes met Harry's. "Hello, Ginny," Harry greeted politely. And Ginny blushed and looked at her toes.

The third time Harry gave proper salutations to Ginny was a little interesting as it was in the Chamber of Secrets, but not interesting because the danger was already over. She had just blinked to awareness and looked about herself confused after waking up from having her life force slowly drained away. Harry Potter said, "Hullo Ginny," because he was rather tired. And Ginny Weasley blushed, looked at her toes, and promptly burst into tears upon seeing him bleeding all over the place.

The fourth time Harry Potter greeted Ginny Weasley was when he tried to ask her to the Yule Ball. Of course he had no way of knowing Neville Longbottom had already gotten there because Neville was smooth with the ladies, but not as smooth as Seamus. At any rate, Harry found her in an armchair and started with, "Hello Ginny." And Ginny blushed, but did _not_ look at her toes. She would stare at them later, when he actually asked her to the Ball.

The fifth time Harry Potter recognized Ginny's presence in a formal manner was when she tried out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team in his sixth year. As Captain, he was there early to meet the team-hopefuls, and when Ginny Weasley walked confidently onto the pitch, he called out, "Hello, Ginny." And though her face was flushed, whether from the cold or something else, Ginny managed to wave back.

When Harry returned to the Gryffindor Common Room after his tedious, torturous detention with Professor Snape, he was a little nervous. Had they won the match without him? There was only one way to find out. So when Harry Potter walked through the portrait hole, he was pleasantly surprised to find a celebration in full swing, and Ginny Weasley running to meet him. "Hi," she managed breathlessly. And then Harry kissed her. Because that had everything to do with it.

**Soooo…yeah. Dull, yes? Initially, it was a cute idea, but when you look at it, these are really just isolated incidents that barely have anything in common and are also really boring. It's the same set up over and over again. Also, these usually end up being really, really, short. Drabbles are okay, but it's more fun to flesh out ideas, even if just a one-shot. Anyway, hope this over-simplification amused you. Thanks for reading, and please review!**


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